The Mating Run by Leeka

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I remember, back in my neighborhood, there was this guy who owned a bunch of dogs–like, five of them. They were all different sizes and colors, but he loved them all the same. I used to watch him take care of those dogs, wondering how he managed to handle such a lively bunch.

One day, as I was passing by his house, I saw him doing something strange. One of his dogs had made a little mess on the floor, and instead of just cleaning it up, he grabbed the dog by the collar and pushed its nose into the urine. I was puzzled, watching this unfold from a distance. It seemed harsh, and I couldn’t quite grasp why he was doing it.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to strike up a conversation with him about his unconventional method of dog training. I mean, I had never seen anyone do that before. As I approached him, he looked up from his task, a bit surprised that someone was taking an interest in his dog training techniques.

“Hey there,” I grested him, trying not to sound too nosy. “I noticed you doing something with your dog just now. What’s that all about?”

He looked at me, and with a knowing smile, he explained, “Oh, that’s just a little trick I learned to train them not to mess indoors. It’s all about teaching them a lesson, you know?

I was intrigued but also a bit skeptical. I mean, dogs are smart, but rubbing their noses in their own pee? It sounded a bit harsh to me. Still, I nodded, inviting him to share more about this curious method.

He started telling me how dogs have this incredible sense of smell and how associating the smell of their urine with a negative experience could discourage them from doing it indoors. I listened, absorbing his explanation like a sponge soaking up water.

He continued, describing the importance of timing and consistency in the training process. It wasn’t just about punishment; it was about creating a clear

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connection between the unwanted behavior and the consequence.

Dogs, he said, are quick learners, and if you get the timing right, they can understand what you want from them.

Victor, with his careless attitude and the chaos he’s left in his wake during this Mating Run. It’s like he’s been running amok, leaving destruction in his path without a care in the world. And I can’t help but think, what if I could make him face the consequences of his actions in a way that he understands?

The notion of metaphorically rubbing Victor’s face in the mess he’s created takes root in my mind. It’s not about physical harm but about making him confront the aftermath of his choices. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a way to teach him a lesson, a way to communicate the gravity of what he’s done.

It’s not about revenge or cruelty. It’s about responsibility and accountability. The dogs, in that man’s care, needed to understand the connection between their actions and the consequences. Could the same principle be applied to Victor, who seems to roam through this Mating Run like it’s some kind of game?

grab Victor by the collar and pull him out of his cushy shack. He’s shouting, protesting, but I’m past the point of caring about his tantrums. This is about consequences, about making him face the aftermath of his reckless actions during this chaotic Mating Run.

His screams ring in my ears, but I don’t let it faze me. Instead, I guide him forcefully towards a thick branch, the rough bark pressing against his back. He stumbles, and for a moment, he seems disoriented – a rare sight for someone who usually walks with the arrogance of a king. But not today.

I shove him against the branch, not too harshly but enough to let him feel the weight of his own body against the sturdy wood. He glares at me, anger flashing in his eyes, but I’m on a mission, a mission to show him the consequences of his

deeds.

Victor, always treating everything like a joke, a game. But not this time.

“Stay still,” I order, my voice firm. He smirks, as if he finds the whole situation

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I’m not playing games. This is real, and he’s about to learn

to the ground. His protests turn into a mix of surprise and annoyance. Maybe he

that can serve as a tangible representation of the chaos he’s caused. Victor squirms beneath me, treating the whole ordeal like a joke, like I’m about to assault him. But I’m not here for physical harm – I’m

his eyes, the momentary break in his arrogant facade. “Shut up,” I command, my patience wearing thin. He’s always had a way of pushing

on deaf ears. I need to find it, that one thing that will serve as

rectangular shape. I pull it out, a cigarette pack. Victor’s eyebrows raise, as if to say, “Is this what you

I find a

piece to the puzzle.

doesn’t get it. Not yet.

rise from my position, leaving him on the ground. The forest is still, as if awaiting the next move in this impromptu play of consequences. Victor dusts himself off,

have a plan.

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illuminates the darkness as I approach Victor’s shack, a determination burning within me. The forest, with its ancient trees and hidden secrets,

confrontation.

s me

intent. “What are you doing, Alina?” he sneers, the arrogance still

actions speak

– a symbol of his disregard for the consequences of his actions. With the lighter in hand, I hover over the corner of

metallic wand.

low but resolute. The forest, with its ancient wisdom, becomes a silent

It catches.

a hungry beast. Victor’s eyes widen, panic setting in.

the hell are

desperate plea. But I’ve made up my mind.

forest. The shack, once a symbol of Victor’s carefree existence, is now consumed by the inferno. The orange glow casts dancing shadows on the trees, creating a chaotic ballet of light and darkness.

this!” he

the heat on my face, the warmth of the fire intensifying with each passing second. Victor, in a fit of desperation, tackles me to

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but I don’t resist. The shack is already ablaze, and

the chaos he’s wrought. “You’ve lost your mind!” he snarls, pinning me to the ground. But

burning, Victor. If I burn,

retort, my laughter echoing through

burn, the flames reaching higher, licking the sky like hungry tongues. The crackling sound is deafening,

drama.

I stand, my laughter