Sweet, Sour, & Spicy

Praise For Sweet, Sour, & Spicy “Who wants a kick in the balls? If you just raised your hand and said, “I do! I do!” I’ve got just the author for you. Once in a blue moon, a horror writer hits the scene and shakes everything up. In Extreme Horror, that writer would be Bridgett Nelson. She writes the most horrifying, outrageous, offensive, down-and-dirtiest horror I’ve ever seen. Aberrant sex, belly-emptying violence, psycho-killers with boners, zoophilia, and even a dildo shaped like a shark, all delivered with an ingenious creative glee which makes one wonder what REALLY makes the human species tick. This is BALL-BUSTING horror fiction, folks (even if you don’t HAVE balls), and it will grab you by the ears, push your face into one heaping, steaming pile of horror after another, and force you to eat. Don’t believe me? Give Bridgett Nelson a try, but don’t forget your vomit bag.” – Edward Lee, author of The Bighead and Header “Bridgett Nelson’s work is about as f**ked up as it gets. If you can handle it, you’re in for a wonderfully deranged and gruesome treat. If you can’t handle it, I totally understand.” – Jeff Strand, Bram Stoker Award-Winning author of Twentieth Anniversary Screening “‘Giggly’ kicked my ass. Outstanding job! I need therapy now.” – Edward Lee, author of The Bighead and Header Sweet, Sour, & Spicy BRIDGETT NELSON Table of Contents Sweet… Bark Off Sour… Giggly Spicy… Rewards Story Notes Acknowledgments About the Author Sweet, Sour, & Spicy copyright 2023 by Bridgett Nelson Cover art and interior design copyright 2023 by Lynne Hansen www.LynneHansenArt.com All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author. Dedication This book is dedicated to my most beloved, amber-flavored Red Bull, without which Sweet, Sour, & Spicy would still be nothing more than an incomplete Word file on my laptop, while I snored through my sleepies. Sweet… BARK OFF PART I 2006 Arlo, a puzzled look on his plump little face, watched the festively wrapped box scooch itself across the hardwood floor. He couldn’t remember asking for any electronically moving toys. His confused frown was replaced by an enormous grin as he heard a high-pitched whine, followed by a tiny, shrill bark. He ran to the large multi-colored box, tore off the lid, and yelled, “A puppy!” Overcome with happiness, a sob tore from his throat at the sight of a tiny, black, frog-like face staring delightedly back at him. He picked up the squishy, loaf-like little body and hugged it against his neck. The pug puppy squirmed, trying to lick his face, its miniature nails sharp against his skin. Arlo couldn’t imagine a better gift for his sixth birthday. TWO YEARS LATER… “Honey, you need to try eating and drinking something. You’re not going to get better if your body has no fuel to help fight the virus.” Arlo’s stomach rolled. He felt terrible. Turning onto his side, he said nothing—just waited for his mom to take the hint and leave him alone. He heard the tap-tap-tap of toenails hitting the hardwood floor, just before Clyde jumped onto the bed, farting as he did so. Despite his weakened state, Arlo giggled. Clyde, not at all embarrassed by his gastrointestinal display, nestled against Arlo’s chest and let out a contented sigh. The boy affectionately hugged the pug, who’d become his very best friend over the past two years. Within seconds, they were both asleep, Clyde snoring lustily. FOUR YEARS AFTER THAT… “Did you see that catch, Clyde? I didn’t think there was any way I’d get to it in time. Coach was impressed!” Arlo’s gestures were exuberant as he walked home, talking excitedly to his pal. Clyde let out an enthusiastic bark, never venturing far from his boy. Arlo stopped walking and knelt in the middle of the sidewalk. “I’m so glad you were there. What would I do without you, boy?” He scratched the pug’s chin and neck. The sixteen-pound black dog let out a series of self-important snorts, his tiny pink tongue licking the tip of Arlo’s nose. Then Clyde sneezed in his face. “Ew!” Arlo laughed at Clyde’s playful antics. After an affectionate ear rub for his pooch, Arlo yelled, “Race you home!” The two took off running at full speed, happy and carefree on a warm, summer’s day. ANOTHER FOUR YEARS… “Come on, Clyde! Hop in! Let’s cruise, buddy!” Arlo patted the seat of the used Honda Civic his parents had gifted him on his sixteenth birthday. Clyde, the hair on his muzzle now more white than black, trotted slowly to the car and hesitated before jumping in. The little dog lurched forward, stopped, whined, and then awkwardly leaped. He landed safely in the passenger seat and panted proudly. Arlo would swear he was smiling. After all, Clyde was going for a drive with his boy! Cranking some music, he pulled out of the driveway. Clyde snorted his approval. TWO MORE YEARS… “This house is full of negative energy, Arlo. Are you sure you want to live here?” his mother asked, as she helped carry boxes to his small bedroom. “Do you think Clyde will be okay without me, Mom?” “He’ll be fine. Your dad and I will take good care of him.” “I wish he could live here with me.” “I don’t think an elderly pug in a rowdy frat house would be a good combination. Besides, dogs are sensitive to spirits, especially evil ones. Clyde would hate it here. The vibes in this house are overwhelming me.” A voice interrupted their conversation. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear what you just said. I’m Mike, the fraternity president.” He shook