I turned into a dog. A real dog. I used to be a person; I wasn't a dog in the true sense of the word. Don't ask where I came from or where I'm going. Because right now, I'm standing at the entrance to a park, grinding my teeth with a squeak, squeak, squeak. I'm going to bite the first person who comes out to death. Even if I've become a dog, I'm going to be a mad dog. If I've turned into this, then nobody else gets to have it easy either. I'm going to become the worst dog in the world, one that takes revenge on society. Someone came out. All I could see were his calves. I lunged at him. At that moment, I didn't bare my fangs. I thought, I'm a clever
