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Like most days of the year for the past handful of decades there sat a mentally disturbed bear at a hotdog stand. Like clockwork he'd wait there for a certain someone, maybe once or twice a week he'd change scenery yet most of his time he’d spend his time at the food stand, serving up fresh dogs. What he was waiting for exactly—or rather who— was the food in question. For you see Skitzo didn't have any food on him, rather he just waited till a certain little dog would come by, once said dog came by he'd turn him into a tasty meal. It was technically cannibalism considering they were both cartoons, yet he was demonic and frankly didn't care at all about any sort of taboo and in fact relished in the taboo. He was the eye of the pervert.
Skitzo yawned and looked around, it was funny. The little dog should have been there by now.
Looking down at his wrist where a watch magically was, Skitzo realized the little dog definitely should have been there. It was almost 10 o'clock, sure the day was still early yet so was the Little Dog's usual arrival, plus the bear didn't like being out in the day for too long. It wasn't normal for the Little Dog to be late yet it did happen, so Skitzo just shrugged it off and slouched over, resting his head onto the cold grill in front of him. The grill was actually on and burning hot, yet Skitzo was both unphased and unharmed by it so it felt cold to him. There was nobody else in the area so he'd just have to wait for his usual victim. And that's exactly what Skitzo did, he waited, and waited, as the sun began to rise more and more the bear found it harder to keep his eyes open with each passing minute.
Skitzo let out a low growl of annoyance. He had to stay awake, he couldn't miss the Little Dog if he came by.
Skitzo entirely gave up thirty minutes later, drifting off into a slumber as was usual when the sun came up for him. He breathed softly, if it weren't for his grotesque appearance it would almost be cute. Floating cloudy skulls emerged as the bear snored loudly. The day passed by quickly, Skitzo in his short hibernating state being oblivious to the sun boring down onto his face and hair, the grill that had a seemingly endless amount of propane behind it which sizzled his skin. Skitzo found the burning sensation pleasant, no matter how much of his fur became charred or how much his flesh crisped black it just regenerated instantly perfectly fine. The lovely sensation of being burnt while sleeping gave the bear pleasant dreams, at least pleasant for him. The idea of murdering innocents, corrupting any and all he came across, seeing little puppies and kittens get their heads torn off while fur matted their bleeding bodies all while he stared into the head's glazed over wide eyed expression. It was all beautiful.
Skitzo giggled gleefully at his blissful dreams.
The slumber didn't last as long as one would want though, eventually Skitzo opened his eyes and was met with the sight of darkness. Realization had struck him, it was night and the Little Dog wasn't there. The usual blank smile the demon had grew wider, he's seen this before, this wasn't the first time that dog had pulled a stunt like this. That bastard was trying to BREAK the cycle! That runt was trying to hide somewhere in order to get away! Skitzo couldn't help but laugh, putting a hand over his face he clutched his own muzzle, the sound that came out of the bear's mouth was nothing short of abhorrent, like a loud grating noise. Then Skitzo abruptly stopped, the humor had faded and was replaced unfathomable rage.
The world distorted and turned into a demented version of itself. Skitzo's eye twitched and everything in the vicinity changed colors, the hues being replaced with a variety of reds. Blood seeped from the surrounding trees as a gust made the branches rattle and shake. Flowers which lined the green scenery where Skitzo set up his cart died, the cartoonish flora that had faces now had Xs over their eyes. Skitzo kicked the hotdog cart over in a rage, his gloves shifting into claws which he used to quickly cut through a tree. No way in hell was he going to let that dog escape, he never did it before so why should he do it now? his blood boiled within him in anger, the routine being broken downright pissed him off. Killing the Little Dog was his daily dose of joy he felt, he never had to go out to look for kills because the Little Dog always came to him then suddenly he stops?
That selfish fuck was gonna pay for depriving Skitzo of his happiness.
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The Little Dog was laying in bed, everything felt horrible for him. His entire body felt freezing cold yet due to his arms rubbing up against his body he knew just how hot his entire being was. It was like touching an oven, yet despite how hot he was the Little Dog couldn't help but hold onto a blanket and cover himself. The only real way his body temperature was being regulated was having his paws stick out from under the covers, the air stung his skin yet he knew it was better than totally overheating. Besides, even if he wanted to adjust the blanket he couldn't, the Little Dog had no real strength in him. It was hard to breathe, the poor pooch struggled and wheezed, his whole body quivered. Even his muscles felt sore and weak making moving the cloth awful. Right now it was felt like death itself was coming for him.
Just as the Little Dog thought that a shadow flew past the window. Looks like death, or at least a manifestation of it, was coming for him.
Out of the corner of his eye the Little Dog could see black liquid oozing and seeping through the window shill like a sentient shadow. It was smooth and fluid in its motions, the goop quickly shaping back into the skeleton of a familiar demon, then the black covered the skeleton conjuring up flesh. Skitzo knew where the Little Dog lived so melting down into his base form and sprinting over was easy, getting inside the home was even easier. Now that he was inside he could see him, that little runt shaking under his covers. Just like every day of his life that dog was going to die and Skitzo was there to make sure of it. Skitzo's eyes were shining bright in the dark room, like some sort of demented nightlight he stood there, slowly pulling out a knife from his shorts.
"F O U N D Y O U~" a distorted voice broke through the silence. Although most couldn't understand him, the Little Dog could and Skitzo took advantage of this, speaking in his broken tongue.
The Little Dog could just barely see the bear out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to scream, he knew he'd be murdered in a horrible way yet in his current state his eyes just drifted back to their original position. Staring up at a popcorn ceiling, the small bumps being the only entertaining thing to stare at while he waited for his doom.
With his signature jagged blade in hand Skitzo stood over the small canine, he just stared down wondering what part he could cut off first. He decided on the head, it was a classic. In a blur Skitzo yanked the Little Dog out of bed and up by the ears, dangling him off the ground he pressed the blade of his against the dog's throat. That's when he paused, noticing something.
"?"
An unexpected reaction surprised him, usually the mutt would scream, beg, whimper, squirm, anything to save his life. Yet instead the Little Dog just hung in his grasp, limp. Skitzo retracted his knife and scratched his head with the blade, briefly enjoying the sharp edge scratching against his scalp.
The Little Dog remained there, he blinked slowly, not even mustering up the energy to look at his abuser.
Skitzo's smile disappeared, it slowly curving down into a frown. Why wasn't he screaming? The Little Dog was supposed to scream and try and save himself, not act like a useless piece of meat! Skitzo shook the dog up and down like a child trying to bring life to a defective toy. The bear's eyes grew brighter yet after a second he stopped, craning his neck he looked at the Little Dog in the eye.
The Little Dog stared back with half lidded eyes. He wished to fear the bear yet the only thing he wished right now was to get back to sleep.
Skitzo dropped the Little Dog back onto the bed. It wasn't any fun if the little toon didn't scream and shout or cry, there was no use in killing him, at least for now. Sitting down on the bed Skitzo closely examined the Little Dog. What was wrong with the pooch?
The Little Dog's snout twitched. He sniffed a couple of times before spit and phlegm launched out of his muzzle and onto Skitzo. The dog coughed, the sneeze making his throat scratchy and itchy making him even more uncomfortable.
Skitzo blinked, an oddly large amount of green mucus came out of the Little Dog's mouth and the bear's entire face was covered. The bear opened his mouth, his long tongue emerged and slurped up all the gunk. Skitzo licked his lips once more, with a quick pause he deducted what made the smaller toon so pathetic. He was sick, he could taste it, the mucus was saltier than normal. As for how Skitzo knew the difference by the taste of mucus, it was just a neat thing some of the others down in Idolatry's lair had taught him. The bear paused as he was now faced with a predicament, how was he going to heal the Little Dog? He corrupts and breaks, not cures and fixes, at the same time he was going to be EXTREMELY disappointed if the dog continued to be in his state.
The Little Dog weakly looked over and saw the bear's frustration. Although Skitzo wasn't exactly sparing him it was nice to see the demonic toon in a less murderous state.
Skitzo looked around the room until he saw a bookshelf leaning against a wall. When did the Little Dog even have time to read? The toon was getting murdered everyday, then again Skitzo just assumed it was put there before the loop all started, yet maybe it had something that could help? The bear stood up and sauntered over to the bookshelf, inspecting it he found numerous books with different colored covers and names along their spines. Not wanting to squint his eyes, Skitzo grabbed a book off the shelf and read it internally.
"How to be a good person"
He definitely didn't need that. Skitzo tossed the book.
"Empathy for dummies"
Nope, that wouldn't help at all. Skitzo tossed it.
"How to cook a toon with 400 different delicious recipes"
OoOoOo! That was actually on Skitzo's wishlist. He grabbed the book and quickly stuffed it down his shorts, planning to save that read for later. With that distraction out of the way he went back to pulling books off the shelf.
"How to seek and take medication for murderous desire"
Nope, that was pointless. Thrown away.
"101 ways to not be a schizophrenic lunatic"
It felt like these books were a message from the universe. Eh, tossed.
"Ways to heal sick toons"
There it is! Skitzo's smile returned and he made his way back over to the little Dog. Now to find out what exactly he could do to solve his "friend" ‘s predicament. Opening the book he flipped through until eventually coming to a multiple step guide on curing something called the toon flu. Now that he was reading this, Skitzo pondered if he could get sick as well. Nah, probably not considering his anatomy being so much different from a normal toon's, besides if he was affected by earthly diseases then he'd have every type of STD and then some yet he never had any problem down in his realm of unspeakable horrors so he was in the clear. Flipping through the pages the murder bear stumbled upon the first step.
- Fix a bath for the sick toon based on their temperature.
Alright, that was easy enough to do. Skitzo pulled out a boxed thermometer from his shorts, he quickly read the box to check what to do with it. "put in sick individuals mouth, wait a minute then check temperature via where the indicated line lands", there was also a note under the directions reading "now with 5% less mercury", huh, neat. The bear gave a grin and removed the packaging, tearing through the box with ease he made quick work using his claws. After he was done he slowly lowered the object and brought it close to the Little Dog's face with much grace and care. Or at least with care at first. After a second he just shoved the entire thermometer down the dog's throat.
The Little Dog coughed and grabbed at his throat in some pitiful attempt to get the object unstuck. His airway was firmly blocked and he could do nothing but just try and cough it out. After that didn't work he attempted to just swallow the entire thing yet it was too big to slide down his esophagus, the dog eventually started full on gagging in an attempt to repel it but to no avail. The little toon looked up at Skitzo, instead of the usual sight of red demonic eyes he found something much scarier. Just pure blank white ovals, not a spec of malice behind that smile. This wasn't Skitzo being sadistic, this was him trying to be genuinely helpful and it made the situation all the worse.
Skitzo blinked as he saw the Little Dog choke. After a few more seconds, and once the poor toon's face started to turn purple, he finally removed the thermometer.
The Little Dog gasped, quickly taking in air to fill his lungs. Everything was starting to fade to black until he was thrust back into the world of the living. He would of preferred to just die so he could hopefully get better once the cycle of death continued. It would have been nice not to have to deal with prolonged sickness and a demon with horrible bedside manner.
Skitzo chuckled seeing the dog collapse back down into the bed, wheezing for air. It wasn't that big of a deal, it was just a simple temperature check. Why was the mutt overreacting? The bear rolled his eyes, he wanted to get things back to the way they were and didn't have time for some minor things like choking getting in the way of that. Scanning over the thermometer with his eyes he noticed the temperature: 40°. Geez, the Little Dog must have been freezing.
What Skitzo failed to realize was the fact that the thermometer was in Celsius, not Fahrenheit.
With Skitzo misunderstanding the situation the Little Dog watched him wondering what was coming next. He couldn't see his own temp on the thermometer, the object now lay on the ground after Skitzo so carelessly tossed it to go do god knows what. The dog just wished the demon would leave him alone already, he wasn't in the mood and was unable to even get up off the bed he was laying on, why did this have to happen to him? It was bad enough dying every day yet to also get sick? There really were no breaks for him. What's worse is the Little Dog had no one to care for him, he liked to think he had a family, at least he remembered some people that could be assumed to be his family. Yet after the bear showed up everything was just a fuzzy blur, every time he was doing something Skitzo would just appear and things would go red before going black. The bear’s demonic antics just left faces and moments that were soon clouded by static.
The Little Dog's ears suddenly perked up at the sound of white noise. Closing his eyes the sick hound realized it was actually running water. The nice relaxing noise soothed him after nearly dying via lack of air, he closed his eyes allowing his breathing to calm. The dog's heartbeat grew slower as he slowly began to drift off into rest. Maybe Skitzo left, maybe he could actually sleep.
CREEEEAAAAKKKKK
The Little Dog's eyes shot open to see the pronounced snout of the demonic bear above him. Looks like resting would have to wait. All he could do was weakly groan as Skitzo picked him up by the scruff and dragged him across the floor, the much larger toon having no care for how awful it felt to be dragged across wooden floorboards. The dog hit his head several times, unsure of where he was being taken while his eyes remained locked onto the ceiling. Eventually though he didn't need to guess, the Little Dog felt a cold smooth tile under him which was an indicator of him being in the bathroom. The cold felt good on his burning skin, the dog let his tongue hang out of his mouth and began to pant to cool himself further. Despite the cold floor there was another feeling in the air, like some sort of humidity that contrasted with the surface he had been put on. It was only until Skitzo picked him up did he realize the source of the humidity.
Skitzo gave a wide grin, another genuine smile as if he wasn't a demonic sadomasochist who's origins were unknown. The bear dangled the dog above the tub letting him see the bath full of water. Much to the Little Dog's dismay he could not only see the water but feel it, the hot vapors emitting from it gave him a good idea of how exactly hot it was. The Little Dog weakly looked back and shook his head, pleading to not go in.
Skitzo nodded up and down slowly. There was no way he was going to let the dog be freezing cold.
Plop
The Little Dog dropped like a rock into the tub, it was far beyond hot, it was near burning. Liquid splashed around from his impact as the hound felt a full frontal assault on his nerves, like a repeated stabbing from all around, his entire being heating up in one painful feeling. The worst part? There was no escape, even if he tried to crawl out he was met with a hand being brought down on his head, Skitzo simply shoving him back in. With that the dog just suffered in excruciating agony, how the bear managed to even find a way to get the water this hot was a mystery yet it seems there is no extent to a demon's powers if it means making another suffer.
After what felt like an excruciating hour that was just less than a couple minutes the Little Dog got used to the temp. The water no longer felt burning it just felt uncomfortable and with his already existing fever he was sweating buckets. Despite the water no longer hurting it did still hurt to move, below his fur laid second degree burns from the unusually hot water which made his limbs stiff. If he did move any of his limbs the dog would just be met with more stabbing sensations.
The Little Dog looked up at Skitzo wondering why he'd ever think this would help.
Skitzo gave a thumbs up, a symphony for distorted voices emerging from his maw "W E L C O M E"
The Little Dog wasn't thankful. His skin was burnt, he was sweating buckets, and the demon who tormented him thought he was being helpful. Dying right about now would be better than this, Skitzo at least consistently made his mutilation timely in all the past cycles of death. Well there was that one time he was dragged to hell, yet even then he burnt up after a minute. Looking down the dog also saw his shorts he wore being absolutely soaked, those were the only pair he had. He let out a whimper and let himself lay back in the water, the dog didn't even wish to sit up. Despite how awful it is, maybe he could just sweat it out and get better, sure it hurt to move yet after that quick adjustment he doubted he'd have to move again. Things couldn't get worse.
"!" Skitzo remembered something and then pulled out something to clean the Little Dog with. He couldn't just let the dog go uncleaned, he didn't have a sponge on hand yet brought out something that felt just as good and soft. Steel wool.
The Little Dog noticed the steel wool and shook his head.
Skitzo nodded his head eagerly.
The dog continued to shake his head with a fearful frown.
Skitzo nodded once more and brought the steel wool close.
Looks like it was going to get worse.
////////
After a painful bath Skitzo stood next to the Little Dog, both in the doorway of the bathroom. The dog's fur was scratched, torn, wet, cuts and red marks lined his body all while blood from the rough scrubbing leaked onto the floor. The poor hound was put through an awful experience and just collapsed, not having the strength to stand. Skitzo kept staring straight ahead with his trademark grin, he was happy to be of some help. Skitzo went back to look at the Little Dog only to find the hound hurt and tired, most importantly however, not well. The bear scratched his chin, it seemed the bath didn't help. Pulling out the book he looked at the next step.
- If sick toon still remains unwell after a bath try some delicious soup to relieve sickness.
Skitzo snapped his fingers, that was it! Why didn't he think of it! Whenever he felt unwell he would bite into the flesh of a delicious toon or human and that would fix him right up.
The Little Dog was still face down, enjoying the cold hardwood on his snout. The brief relaxation the cold felt on his blistering skin didn't last long, soon enough he felt a hand grab his leg in a tight grasp and begin to drag him. The dog's snout scraped against the floor as he just whimpered, eventually he was thrown into a chair at a table. The dog was disoriented, when did he get into the dining room?
Looking around he saw four other chairs there at the table with him. One chair was sat at the very end of the table while the three others were way closer to where he sat. The distant chair felt out of place somehow, like it didn't belong. All the other seats felt familiar though, as if the Little Dog should remember who should sit there. Who did sit there. Faces and voices that fell into a blur began to fill his mind. Why did the dining table bring up these memories? Why was it now that he only started to get this sense of out of placeness of a house he lived in.
Jeez, his fried mind was now playing tricks on him, he really was sick.
////////
In the kitchen Skitzo was trying to prepare food for the Little Dog, after all he did cook a variety of things using whatever resources he could find. Or hunt. Making something for the sick little hound wouldn't be too much of a problem, he just had to find the right ingredients. Opening the cupboard he saw a can of premade chicken stock, wow using can made stuff? Who knew the Little Dog was so lazy. The demonic bear preferred to make his stuff from actual bone, yet he supposed it would do in a quick rush to get his usual victim better. Grabbing a pot that was hung on a rack Skitzo tore the can open in half with his claws and put it on the stove which he promptly lit. Walking over to the fridge he opened it to find out a problem in his plan, there was no meat. The bear looked shocked wondering what he was ever going to do until he heard a whistle out the window...
Looking out the kitchen window the bear saw a toon who was strolling down the sidewalk. They were odd looking, with white fur they had a slash of black fur across their face that looked like a raccoon mask, they also wore a distinct red hoodie. The toon was whistling a jaunty tune while walking with their eyes closed as if not having a care in the world, just enjoying their day.
"F R E S H M E A T" Skitzo licked his chops. Looks like there was something that could go into the soup after all.
The kitchen soon became demented, a dark red covering the area. The floorboards which were once pristine became cracked, the fridge and cabinets were broken with the hinges shattered. Reaching over Skitzo removed a kitchen knife out of a knife holder, as soon as he touched it the blade distorted. Reality itself glitched and the knife designed for cutting food was replaced with his usual jagged blade that the bear oh so enjoyed using to maim. Static broke through the air like some unknown TV show tuning out, the toon stopped whistling and turned his head to see Skitzo staring through the window. That static growing louder. Glowing red eyes shined through the window highlighting the Skitzo's pearly white smile that opened up to reveal tentacles. The once merry toon felt a cold air hit him, for some reason he couldn't look away, despite the danger present it felt like fear itself told him to keep staring. As if staring would protect him, that was a funny joke. The present static soon infiltrated the wandering toon's eardrums as all the poor soul could see was Skitzo cackling maniacally while tendrils seeped out from his muzzle.
////////
The Little Dog had his face down onto the table. The cold wood felt good on his snout similar to the tile floor although instead of a bathroom that wasn't mopped since god knows how long it was a nice clean table. A bit dusty, but it sure was cleaner than the floor. Just as the Little Dog was getting comfortable a sudden scream shattered his comfort. The sound of glass shattering and subsequent screams and wails of terror was heard. The dog looked up at the doorway leading into the kitchen wondering what was happening yet this overwhelming static sound fuzzed his brain making him not want to investigate. With how his body was even if he wanted to investigate he probably couldn't either way. So the Little Dog just sat there, listening to the horrifying screams of some unknown individual who he could only assume was meeting a horrible fate at the hands of the bear.
"OH GOD! PLEASE! NO! HELP PLEASE!"
The Little Dog covered his ears and just kept his face down. He whimpered, not out of fear but just in hopes to block out the screams of pain and terror. The sounds were muffled, yet didn't disappear sadly. For a good thirty seconds the sounds of sobs and pleas for mercy of a toon were reciprocated with grainy laughter and after the laughter was the sound of a blade cutting through flesh and bone. It was sickening.
After what seemed like half an hour Skitzo returned to the dining room holding a bowl of soup for the hound. Skitzo had that usual blank grin on his face, acting as if nothing had happened.
The Little Dog stopped whimpering and looked up to see the bear placing the bowl down. What was immediately noticeable was bones floating in the stew, a gouged out neck, and a couple teeth. Seems Skitzo took a certain French saying a bit too literally. The smell was putrid, like something had been exposed to the sun and decayed giving a clear sign that although fresh somehow the meat was rancid. The Little Dog already knew what was in it from the sight alone and didn't want anything to do with the food, turning his nose up at it.
The bear took note of how the sick hound was repulsed by the food. Scratching his head he thought of what could make it more appealing before getting an idea. With a snap of his fingers the bear walked into the living room, next to the fireplace was a Christmas tree. The once vibrant evergreen was now a brown and dead shell of what it used to be all those years ago, shattered bulbs and dead lights adorned it. For Skitzo it was a nice reminder of their early years, back when the cycle was still an odd phenomena. Now it was just routine, every day the same old shtick, murder in and murder out. The bear let out a sigh yet quickly focused on the task at hand. Using his tentacles, Skitzo made them extend out from his shorts and pick up the tree by its rotting trunk, once the tree was hanging upside down he used his claws to pick the very top of the tree off. After getting the piece he wanted Skitzo tossed the tree away and retracted his tendrils. The piece of the tree was a little garnish that would surely make the soup appetizing to anyone, somebody would be stupid to turn it up if it had such good presentation. With the garnish in hand the bear walked back to see the Little Dog still looking at the soup with abject disgust and horror. That disgust and horror would go away right as he placed the dead piece of tree into the soup bowl.
Or at least, it was supposed to.
Even with the "fancy" garnish that Skitzo put oh so much effort into getting, the dog continued to look at the food in front of him with horror. It could hardly be called food. Whatever was in that bowl emitted a smell that was just foul, making the Little Dog gag and look away in order to breathe fresh air.
Skitzo didn't take the dog's rejection nicely, his eye twitched as he looked at the bowl. After a quick inspection his suspicion was right: there was nothing wrong with it. The sick mutt was just being a picky brat! Weather he liked it or not that little fuck was gonna eat the entire thing, he put so much time and effort into it just to see someone waste it like it's nothing!
The Little Dog looked to see the bear staring at him with red eyes. He gulped, he wanted to run yet was too weak too. All he could do was whimper and look with pleading eyes as Skitzo grabbed him.
The bear took note of the dog's pleading eyes yet didn't care about them, instead he pried the Little Dog's maw open and began to dump the hot soup down his throat.
It burned, unlike the bath where it was externally all the pain was internally allowing for the hot soup to scorch his throat. The fluids made it feel like his throat was being stabbed and dumped into fire. The taste was even worse, it tasted like iron with the bone and teeth having this awful texture he felt on his tongue. The chicken stock which made the broth actually edible was drowned out by all the other putrid tastes, the Little Dog wanted to throw up but was stopped from vomiting by his round nose being pinched.
Skitzo had a firm grip on the dog's muzzle, he wasn't going to let all of his hard work cooking go to waste by some lesser being. The bear looked at the Little Dog in amusement seeing the hound “enjoy” the meal, still there was something that bothered him. The Little Dog wasn't flailing around. Usually the pooch would claw at him or do anything really n a desperate hopes to not have this happen. But there was no kicking in flailing, just a pathetic little hound that was being forced to drink chunks of flesh of a mutilated toon.
After the Little Dog managed to eat the entire thing, including swallowing the teeth and the torn out Adam's apple, he rested in his chair with a look of shock. His brain was still registering what happened, he felt sick to his stomach knowing he just ate another one of his kind. Even if it wasn't the exact same species, they were both toons which made it cannibalism and downright wrong. He felt even more sick than he already was from the act, his stomach gurgling as if knowing it was digesting something it shouldn't. Thankfully the worst was over, he wasn't feeling any better yet at least he wouldn't have to stomach anymore of Skitzo's cooking. Even the bear's eyes seemed to go back to being white, no longer glowing anymore. The worse had passed and now the Little Dog hoped he could just sleep.
clack
Skitzo dropped a steaming pot full of more of his soup onto the table. The bear had plenty more he made, after all you can get a lot of meat from a singular toon. Putting his hand in the pot he swiped up an eyeball that was floating on the surface, it's pupil being piecut. Opening his mouth, Skitzo plopped the eye in before biting down, the Little Dog got splashed with eye juices as he watched the bear grab the bowl and scoop up more soup for him. Eyeing the bowl in front of him the hound gulped. The bear clearly wouldn't leave him until he ate more of his delicious cooking, all of it in fact.
////////
The Little Dog was back in the bathroom, this time vomiting up all that he ate. Despite the bear's best attempts to keep the dog from puking it seems that one could only eat so much before it inevitably happens. Also the Little Dog did eat the entire pot of soup filled with gore and viscera and the canine didn't share the same taste as Skitzo so the cannibalism wasn't sitting right with his insides. Skitzo just had a refined palette that not many could understand sadly.
After vomiting to the point nothing more was left in his gullet the Little Dog looked up to see Skitzo. The bear had an annoyed snarl across his muzzle. When the demonic toon snatched him up the dog didn't fight either, there already was no fight in him and from the torture he had been put through he made him expect more. His mind was tired, his body felt like it had been thrown into the wash and put on a spin cycle and all he wanted to do was just rest.
Skitzo marched with the Little Dog back into the bedroom. Throwing the smaller toon back onto his bed the bear felt frustrated. No matter what he did it fixed nothing! The Little Dog didn't get better no matter how much effort he put in and it was pissing him off, he just wanted to go back to their usual shenanigans yet they couldn't! Opening the book the bear tore out pages until he finally got onto the third and final step.
- If all else fails: allow the toon to rest.
Skitzo stared at the page. Really? Sleep? THAT'S THE LAST SOLUTION!? Everything he did in an effort to help his usual victim and nothing worked, yet suddenly this useless book is suggesting something as stupid as sleep will fix this!? Skitzo got frustrated and threw the book, he didn't care where he threw it and coincidentally it pelted the Little Dog in the face.
The Little Dog who was sitting up fell backwards onto the mattress, now dazed from the blow of the hardback crashing into his skull. The dog leaned over the side of his bed and vomited again, the only thing that came up this time was stomach acid which burned his throat. The dazed state worsened as the Little Dog looked up and saw a spinning halo made of birds that flew around his head, staring at the sudden appearance of the cartoon gag made him even more dizzy. Skitzo grabbed one of the birds that appeared and bit its head off. The rest of the birds tried to fly off only to get punctured by Skitzo's pubic hair tendrils which dragged them into his shorts, presumably to be consumed for later. There was no time for stupid fucking gags. With that disruption out of the way, Skitzo crossed his arms and sat on the bed. He couldn't believe this bullshit, he went an entire day without murdering the Little Dog and went through hell to try and heal him. Thankfully not literally although a stroll through the brimstone would be preferable than having to deal with a useless mutt who gave no reaction to torture. Looking down to his side he saw the Little Dog, still dizzy and sick with no sign of improvement.
In his delusion and stunned state the dog decided to just disregard Skitzo’s knack for murder. The poor hound was just exhausted from everything, despite the bear being the source of his torment he didn't care and cuddled up close to Skitzo for comfort. The bear had a certain warmth to him, maybe because he was a demon and had that natural aura, either way the Little Dog found it comforting. Closing his eyes he held onto Skitzo tightly hoping to just sleep already and not face anymore torment.
Skitzo looked down in confusion, the dog had latched himself onto his arm. That was definitely new and odd for the bear to see, trying to shake the Little Dog off Skitzo got even more confused. Somehow the hound managed to stay firmly on, the toon's little noodly limbs wrapping around the bear's arm like a snake around its prey. Skitzo pondered where in the hell this strength was when the Little Dog was getting murdered yet didn't question it. The first beam of sunlight shone through the bedroom door and soon enough the demon himself felt tired. He spent the entire day trying to help his victim and the time for sleep, or at least his time, was approaching. Still upset at the Little Dog for being totally useless and no fun he leaned forward and was about to grab the dog's head and rip it off to find any sort of sadistic pleasure when he suddenly stopped.
Something felt... off. Usually the demonic toon was cruel, uncaring, sadistic, all of the things one could imagine a textbook absolute monster would be. Yet at that very moment Skitzo felt something different inside himself when seeing the Little Dog so close. He stopped he his murderous advances and just stared at the smaller toon who was comfortable. The Little Dog nuzzled into the bear's arm and that made it hard for Skitzo to kill him. In that moment, the immortal creature that plagued him constantly wasn't kicking, crying, or screaming, instead the Little Dog who was horribly sick was just desperate for some sort of comfort and found it in the black scruffy fur Skitzo had. For a creature he forever tormented to find him comforting was new and certainly a symptom of someone not thinking straight. Although it felt odd... almost, nice?
Beneath all the murder, bloodlust, sadism, occasional masochism, and other perverted stuff Skitzo did maybe there was a heart in that usual terrifying demon. When seeing that sleeping hound that bloodlust was gone, maybe him and his victim could make up and just be friends. Put all that bloodshed behind them, maybe the key to breaking the cycle was actually being nice to each other.
Suddenly the bear let out a burp, out of his mouth flew an actual heart that belonged to the toon who he earlier killed and made into the stew. Turns out it wasn't a change of morals nor affection the bear felt, it was simply just the bad meat in Skitzo's stomach that made him feel differently during that brief moment. Grabbing the heart and shoving it back down his throat Skitzo chuckled and laid down on the bed. It was stupid to think something such as him had a heart, yet he was tired and it was day so he'd just wait and see what would happen tomorrow.
The day passed with the two toons sleeping peacefully. Despite Skitzo making snores the Little Dog managed to sleep peacefully. When the sun finally began to set the Little Dog began to stir, he slowly opened his eyes and let out a yawn. Looking around he was surprised to feel his limbs again, jumping out of the bed in joy the dog moved around to find his fever completely gone along with his fatigue.
The skull shaped exhales that Skitzo made when he snored popped, the bear opening his eyes to see the sight of the Little Dog jumping around in happiness. Sleep actually worked? Huh, maybe he didn't have to waste all that time with the bath and soup. Wait— the Little Dog was okay and healed now. The toon was clearly up and active meaning they could get back to their usual activities…
The Little Dog was enjoying his sudden and newfound energy. That was the best sleep he ever had, come to think of it it was probably the only sleep he ever had considering he usually died everyday and just woke up in his bed. The joy and excitement was cut short when he heard a growling, turning to look up at the toon he previously slept beside the Little Dog saw the bear's smile as wide as ever. The room suddenly became red, black liquid seeped from Skitzo's maw signifying his desperation for murder. Seems that the one day of peace between the two was just temporary. The Little Dog took a step back, his fur stood on edge as a familiar static noise filled the air signifying danger. The bear spoke which made his blood run cold, the familiar command leading him to do one thing now that he was able to-
"R U N"