Every day, Fangy had to suppress the urge to eat Nicholas. This was very difficult, because Fangy had a tiny brain and hunter’s instincts. But Fangy was Nicolas’ pet, and he was determined to do his job as best he could.
Fangy learned how to play fetch, which he enjoyed very much, and how to play dead, which he didn’t enjoy at all, and how to shake a claw, to which he was indifferent. His absolute favorite times were when Nicholas was away from home and Nicholas’ parents let him loose in the woods behind their house.
The neighbors would always complain to Nicholas’ father that their cats and dogs went missing. But he would shrug his shoulders and blame badgers, which nobody believed.
Then one day Nicholas brought some of his school friends over. Fangy stood just inside the screen door and snuffled eagerly as they approached. He couldn’t imagine any other reason for guests other than that they must be here for dinner.
Nicholas arrived at the door first. He put out his hand and spoke directly to Fangy. “These are friends, boy. You mustn’t hurt them. Good boy.”
But Fangy couldn’t help himself. He jumped viciously on the first child and tore him to bits. The boy was delicious. Then Fangy caught a girl who’d tried to run. She was even better.
By this time Nicholas had run into the house and returned with a rolled-up magazine. He smacked Fangy on the snout and yelled. “Stop it! Bad Fangy! Go inside to your corner and wait for me.”
Fangy obeyed, sheepishly following orders to stand in the time-out spot. He did feel some shame, but the excitement of the hunt still pulsed through him.
Nicholas stood on the porch, surveying the macabre scene. He sighed. He probably should have seen this coming. There’s only so much self-control one can expect from a velociraptor.
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