Tag Archives: Bowser

Flash Fiction Thursday–Random Story Title Generator

Flash Fiction ThrusdayHere’s another flash fiction challenge from Terrible Minds:



I chose the randomly generated title “The Beast’s Scientist” and wrote about a mutated dog. Me acually getting a dog was the motivation behind this one (More on that this weekend).


The Beast’s Scientist

Dr. Ridge pushed the button which activated Bower’s eyes. The mutated canine’s eyes didn’t light up, but the hazel ring around his pupils turned to gold and started glowing. Dr. Ridge put on the white lab-coat and faced his small but interested audience. “Let’s see what he can do,” he said.

The onlookers also wore white lab-coats of their own. They all held pens and notepads and shared the same dubious look on their faces. Ridge released the black bear into the pin. It was obvious that the bear had the size advantage on the mutated dog, but everyone in the room could tell it was far closer than it should have ever been had the dog been all-natural. In reality, the Pitt Bull monstrosity weighed in at a whooping three hundred and fifteen pounds—a good two hundred and fifty clear of what he should have weighed. He stood on four legs at four feet two inches and had teeth the size of AA batteries. The low growl that escaped his mouth when the bear walked into the cage with him sent chills down the spines of the onlooking scientists. Hell, it even sent chills down the spine of the black bear itself. The bear cowered in the corner in hopes that the giant dog-beast wouldn’t rip him from limb to limb.

“Meet Bowser,” Dr. Ridge said. The pride in his voice was unmistakable. “We’ve located the pituitary gland in his brain as a newborn puppy and altered his genetic makeup. Although, he’ll carry the usual traits that you’d see with his breed, he’s grown to close to six times it’s usual size. His brain was half canine and half robot. We can activate him at any time and shut him down, as well. He’s the ultimate compliment to any army. The ground forces will be able to sniff out any dangerous insurgents…pun intended.”

“Dr. Ridge,” A man in the crowd of white coats spoke up. “How did you manage to make him aggressive enough to fight a bear? And why isn’t he doing anything?”

“Still need to push one more button.” Ridge pushed said button, and sent electrical pulses into Bowser’s brain with the flick of a finger.

The tension in the dog’s leg muscles abated for a moment, then reactivated showing the onlookers every ripple in the canine’s frame.

“Let’s proceed,” Ridge said.

With that, Bowser walked to the frightened bear who still cowered in the corner of the caged room. He stood up on his hind legs and towered over the bear like a bear would do so if the tables were flipped out in the wild.

All at once, he came down on the bear with his mouth open, teeth showing, and…tail wagging?

For a moment, the onlooking men thought the dog was attempting to lick the bear to death, but then realized that he just wanted to play.

Ridge looked both stunned and disappointed. His creation failed him once again. Ridge realized the error in his project—he based it on stereotype alone. He forgot to take into account that he needed to train the dog how to maul other animals; Bowser simply wouldn’t do that when left to his own devices.