A/N: A while ago, my neighbor's dogs attacked and bit me. I wasn't badly hurt, but I still have a scar on my leg. This is based on what happened a few days later, when I went back.
Swallowing my fear, I step forward into the yard, gripping my water pistols tightly.
This will not be like last time.
Calling hello, I hear the barks, the sounds of anger from the dogs.
Slowly, I draw my first gun and level it, waiting to see the owner's reaction.
She voices no objection.
The first dog, the younger, is now feet away.
I fire, hitting him between the eyes.
He stops briefly, surprised.
His brother joins him, now, both barking.
I bring a second water gun from my pocket and fire both, hitting my targets squarely.
They retreat a few steps, as I fire one last time, then they run to the house, tails under their legs.
I lower my pistols, and breathe in victory.