Ruh-Roh! I’m a Cult Leader!


By Bitch On Freeze

Life has been ruff.

You see, last week I found a letter underneath my door. It was like I had been transported into a chapter of one of my Sherlock x Moriarity fanfics. I picked up the letter and got a fat whiff of bacon strips and grass. Grimacing, I opened the letter and read an invitation to a secret party. Me? Invited to a secret party? That could only mean one of three things: An orgy (of the non-sexual kind), a murder (of the sexual kind) or an act of misogyny that would shatter my self-esteem to the point where I’d have to shave my head, get a septum piercing and only listen to Mitski. I took my chances on the all expenses paid trip to Big O Island and decided to go to the party. 

Now a few things gave me paws on that invitation. It was a typed letter but riddled with typos. I guess these orgy people don’t have Grammarly. They signed it with a paw print instead of a signature. Maybe they were just furries or white people with expensive dogs. I don’t discriminate. Finally, they asked me to bring a host of things: a pack of brand-new tennis balls, a blindfold, a collar and a DVD copy of any of the AirBud or AirBuddies movies. Now, I managed to snag the tennis balls from Club Tennis, I already had the blindfold and collar (don’t ask) but how was I going to get the movies? Well luckily someone in Reuse Vandy was selling them for one dollar a film. What a lucky dog I was! 

I traveled to the secret location at midnight. It was a dog park ten minutes from campus. The letter told me to look for a tall figure in a trenchcoat by the water fountains. In houndsight, that was a major red flag, but live, laugh, love you know. As I tried not to step on dog poop, I found my way to the meet-up spot and met the tall person. Now, the person could barely stand. They were wibbling and wobbling. Their arms didn’t even make it to the end of their coat so it was just fabric dangling about. There was a hairy long snout peaking out of the coat with a nose glistening in the moonlight. I thought to myself, Hmm, I really am going to a furry party. Probably should have brought my cat ears. I had traveled too far to turn back, so I handed the figure my bag, put the collar and blindfold on, and followed them into the shadows. 

After walking for a bit, I found myself being led down some stairs. All I could hear was howling. It was like I was at a Team Jacob watch party. I reached the bottom and the howling stopped. I felt some liquid touch my lips. Should I have drank some random liquid in a place I had never been to before? No, but we can’t change the past. It tasted like plain water with a hint of kibble. I’d give it a 3/10. The howling started again and I was attacked by a barrage of tongues licking me. I reached up to take off my blindfold and guess what I saw. Dogs. Dogs all around in red robes. No orgies, no furries (of the human kind), just dogs. My first-ever invitation to a college party was in fact a meet-up of the local cult of mutts. I spent the rest of the night watching Snow Buddies and rubbing many, many bellies. 

I think I’m like a High Pupstess or something. I don’t know. I found out they had this drink called “Hooch Pooch” and after lapping up one dog bowl full of that sweet nectar I blacked out. When I woke up the next morning, I had a massive fever, and I found a paw print permanently marked on my thigh. I guess I can put Cult Leader on my resume now. This is honestly the best org I’ve ever been in, and I’m glad that org doesn’t end in “y” at the end considering, ya know, bestiality. My monthly dues are only six packs of tennis balls and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Much cheaper than the dues on campus. The only drawback is that I’ve started to crave raw meat and piss on trees. It’s probably just my period though.

  • January 17, 2023