The Flabby Warrior (OFF #1)

The hair on George’s back rose like a line of mountains.

The audacity of the intruders disgusted him. The nerve to brazenly traipse across his property, their annoying chatter peppered with muffled laughs. They didn’t seem to notice him at his post, his dark eyes trained keenly on their every move.

Or if they saw him, they ignored him.

A slight twinge of sadness prickled George’s nose. There had been a day when intruders wouldn’t dare step foot in his region. He was a fierce protector. He had killed invaders for less than the rebellion these two morons paraded before him.

He’d been a warrior. A deliverer of justice. He’d had the respect of peers and enemies alike. Word of his fiery red hair and temper to match had been circulated throughout the region for years.

He kept a secret though. He wasn’t really that much of a hot head. Truth be told, he’d been sleeping at his post for years, sometimes so deeply that an intruder alert would bring him out of his dreams with a yelp and it would take him a minute to remember where he was.

But it had never affected his game or his reputation. He’d managed to hide the secret naps, as well as the extra skin that had been accumulating around his face and midsection.

He glared at the intruders. No little punks like these were going to destroy his perfect record. He rose slowly to his feet, willing his old body to react as it once had.

The intruders saw him then and stared frozen, seemingly taking stock of their options.

George lowered his head and took one single step.

The cowards fled.

Relieved at not exerting energy or even having to bark, George reclined again and was sleeping deeply within minutes.

Author's note: We'll just pretend I posted this yesterday, on the official first day of "OFF".