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ϻӮ asked Ken Wheaton:

Can you tell us a two-sentence horror story?

Ken Wheaton Since Margaret's death, Scruffy had been despondent, tail drooping, no appetite, and tonight like every night, whining and sighing next to Todd on the couch, impervious to petting or dog talk. But when the lights flickered he bolted from the couch in one leap, rushed to the full length mirror Margaret once used as a final check before stepping out the door and started the happy frantic dance that Scruffy only ever did for one occasion: Margaret's return home.

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