You decide it best to leave the house with the paper, knowing that the owner is nothing but trouble. Why would someone act so bersurk?

Everything in the house doesn't add up and on top of that, you were only delivering a package. It would be best to go, since you weren't suppose to be there in the fist place.

You start to walk down the hall, not knowing exactly where the door was located. It's when you see stairs at the end of the hall, that you gain confidence.

Then you hear a growl. A moster snapping sound comes from behind you and you freeze. It sounds like a bear, but you know other wise. Forcing your mind upon the image and then turning your head slightly, you become aware of the dog.

A pitbull stands at the end of the hall, flashing its teeth and snapping its jaw. When is lunges at you like you are prime rib, you run for the stairs. Half way to the top step, you start to slide. You start to wonder why the ground beneath you has disappeared and now you're free-falling.

But before you even get a chance to consider the possibilities, you acknowledge your head cracking . . . You're dead. The dog was a hollow-graphic image, leading you to a trap in the hall. You slid down the trap, like the sucker that you are and fell fifteen feet into a basement pit of upward facing knives.

... opps