Webster: Ch. 3 Witch Ghost Dog Clone

Everything hazy. Behind bars. Where’s Daddy? Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! "Shut up." Every raff always tells Webster to shut up. Daddy never said shut up. Webster hurts, so Webster lies down. The air smells like fur and urine and metal and clean things. Why bars? Webster covers his eyes and thinks of Daddy. Where did Webster leave him? Daddy would hold Webster if he were here. He would put Webster in his lap and sing to Webster and tell Webster “nothing to worry about.” He would say to the raffs. Change? Change? Help, please? Anything appreciated.

Yellow: Ch. 4 Witch Ghost Dog Clone

I believe my name was originally Yellow. I have very vivid memories of wearing the sunflower shirt. Then again I recall wearing black, and I know I had my share of violet days as well. Still, I am quite sure I was originally Yellow. Like almost everything else, the confusion about names was Violet’s fault. The bloody fool. It was a long time ago when we were still smaller than the Moms and Dads, and we never left the sleeping room.

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