Jazzmin Flush (66)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (66)"  
   
   Mister Merlin Pope had Thomas around the arctic wolf neck--the androgynously abnormal man forcing Thomas' lethal incisors closed with uncanny, almost god-like strength.  Thomas' canine telepathy hit him loud:  "I mean not your destruction!  Just stay away from my friends and me!"  
   "Too late!"  Pope loudly blurted, increasing his gruesome grapple and snout crunch.
   Then, the door to Pope's modest shanty exploded, okay, flew open, rascally Rascal totally coydogged out, snarling like uncouth vermin, as some coyotes are considered; plus, weirdly wagging her fluffy tail as did the Pomsky within command her to do, oddly enough.  "I'm here fella!"  Rascal linking her thoughts to Thomas'.
   "My blasphemous gods!  What foolish stupidity and lack of suave rescue is this?  Cotton candy with teeth doesn't frighten the great Merlin Pope--android hunter and werewolf stalker."
   "Save it!"  Thomas telepathically screamed at him.
   Next, Rascal powerfully pounced on Pope's big head, her hungry chompers going for the nasal cavity and getting fanged anchor, biting him, blood squirting from his flaring nostrils, and he ultimately released his deadly grip on Thomas; as a result, the mystical dogs forced him into a locked corner--the Spirit Wolf and coydog, her dripping blood from a happy mouth, but both breathing the heavy huff and giving pernicious puff in the direction of the human demon.
   Jazzmin Flush enters.  Not blushing, and not minding the flowing gold dangling in her angel-shaped, California eyes.  "What's your damage?  Mr. Pope?"