The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado Read Online Free Page A

Teeth, and in just a matter of a few minutes, we had taken it out. You’d have thought we had chainsaws for teeth.
    I paused for a moment to catch my breath and to admire our work. And spit splinters.

    â€œNice work, son. That screen didn’t have much of a chance against us, did it? Ha! They thought they had us trapped! Little did they know.”
    â€œYeah, but that was the easy part. The next door won’t be so easy.”
    â€œStand back and watch this. Hank the Cowdog is fixing to show you how we take out a wooden door.” I loosed up the muscles in my enormous shoulders and also the powerful muscles in my jaws. “In two minutes, we’ll be inside the house. Watch.”
    I threw my entire body and soul into the task of mowing down that door. I had become a chainsaw, a battering ram, a sludgehammer, a powerful laser-driven machine that was totally dedicated to the task of . . .
    Some doors are thicker than you might suppose. This one proved to be pretty stubborn. I mean, chips and sawdust were flying everywhere, and my teeth were throwing up sparks and my claws were ripping huge hunks of wood from . . .
    I stopped to rest. Drover was watching. “How’s it going?”
    â€œPiece of cake. We’re almost there. Just a few more bites and we’ll be inside the house.”
    I took a gulp of air and hit it again, this time with the fury of . . . nobody had warned me that this particular door was ten inches thick and made of solid oak.
    I mean, we’re talking about a door that must have weighed, oh, five hundred pounds. It’s a won­der they could find hinges to hold it up, and I doubt that any dog in the world could have . . .
    And did I mention that it was covered with steel armored plate? Yes sir, one inch of solid steel, bolted into ten inches of solid oak, and I soon realized that if I kept up my frenzy of chewing, I would soon be toothless.
    I stopped to catch my breath and spit wood. Steel, that is, from the steel plate.
    Again, Drover was watching. “How’s it going now?”
    I gave him a withering glare and was about to give him worse than that when, all of a sudden and before our very eyes, the door opened.
    I turned a worldly smile upon my companion. “As you can see, Drover, the door gave up.”
    â€œYou mean, it opened itself?”
    â€œOf course it did. That door knew that if it didn’t yield to my powerful attack, it would soon be nothing but splinters and sawdust. You probably thought . . .”
    HUH?
    Yikes, someone was standing in the gloomy darkness in front of us. A small person, perhaps a midget, dressed in a strange red and white polkadot uniform.
    I felt the hair rising on the back of my neck and a deep ferocious growl began to rumble in my . . .
    Okay, relax. Did you think it was one of the green Charlie Monsters? Ha, ha, ha. No, not at all.
    Little Alfred. Wearing red and white polka-dot pajamas. Ha, ha, ha. See, I had known, or had suspected . . .
    Never mind.
    It was our friend, Little Alfred, not a Charlie Monster, and that was the best news of the year. I almost fainted with relief. Or to view it at a slightly different angle, Drover almost fainted with relief, while I was merely glad to see him.
    Little Alfred, that is. I was glad to see Little Alfred, not Drover. I had been with him all night and that was one night too many.
    The boy switched on the utility room light and stared at the, uh, screen door, the damaged screen door. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open.
    â€œUmmmmmmmm!”
    At that very moment, I decided the time had come to switch all circuits over to Innocent Looks and Slow Tail Thumping. I mean, “Ummmmmm” is sort of a tip-off word, right? It warns of stormy weather ahead, so to speak.
    â€œYou dogs wecked the scween door and my mom’s gonna be MAD!”
    I found myself fidgeting and turning my gaze away from the, uh, screen door, and generally feeling uncomfortable about the