Meet Gobshund, a Dachshund goblin with delusions of world domination, an uncontrollable sausage obsession, and absolutely no understanding of structural integrity. Dr. Franken-Fur intended to create the ultimate underground menace. Instead, he created a four-legged demolition disaster. Welcome to Experiment 003 of the Howl-O-Ween Misfits.
MISFIT FILE 003: GOBSHUND
The Elongated Menace
OFFICIAL INCIDENT SUMMARY: LAB REPORT #88-B
CLASSIFICATION: EXTREME NUISANCE
SUBJECT: Fritz (formerly a Good Boy)
CURRENT DESIGNATION: Gobshund
THREAT LEVEL: Catastrophic, but entirely accidental.
Dr. Franken-Fur’s grant proposal was unambiguous.
Splice subterranean goblin DNA into a canine host to engineer the ultimate stealth operative. A creature capable of burrowing beneath enemy strongholds, severing communication lines, and striking unspeakable terror into the ankles of mankind.
The fatal oversight was utilizing Fritz.
Fritz was a Dachshund.
He already possessed an elongated spine, absolutely no survival instincts, and a profound sense of unearned entitlement. His relationship with authority was strained. His relationship with sausages was considerably more intimate.
The mutagen merely weaponized his existing personality flaws.
He emerged from the transformation chamber sporting enormous goblin ears, titanium-grade burrowing claws, an additional five inches of chassis, and a neural pathway tuned exclusively to chaos.
He was hideous.
He was magnificent.
He was also chewing on the doctor’s clipboard.
Nevertheless, the experiment appeared successful.
The newly transformed creature scrambled atop an overturned centrifuge, raised his claws toward the heavens, and announced:
“BEHOLD! I AM GOBSHUND! SOVEREIGN OF THE BED SKIRT! MASTER OF THE SUB-TILE DOMINION! DESTROYER OF—”
“Fritz. Get off the centrifuge.”
“MY NAME IS GOBSHUND, YOU BALD-HEADED BUFFOON!”
Dr. Franken-Fur was jubilant.
The peer reviews would be historic.
The jubilation survived for precisely 8.4 seconds.
THE INCIDENT
At approximately 14:03 laboratory time, Subject 003 detected an unidentified curved object behind the high-voltage breaker panel.
Initial visual assessment suggested sausage.
Potentially kielbasa.
Gobshund’s pupils dilated. His ears rotated independently. His tail began vibrating at a frequency normally associated with industrial machinery.
The doctor recognized the warning signs.
“Fritz. Don’t.”
Gobshund lowered himself into an attack position.
“Fritz. I mean it.”
A low, primordial growl rumbled through the laboratory.
“THE UNDERWORLD SHALL SURRENDER ITS TREASURES TO ME!”
“FRITZ!”
Too late.
Commencing an unauthorized excavation at approximately four thousand RPM, Gobshund tore through the breaker panel, severed two primary transformer conduits, shredded the laboratory’s hydraulic failsafe lines, and ignited forty gallons of highly unstable growth serum.
The resulting explosion vaporized the south wing, launched the reinforced blast doors across county lines, and temporarily rearranged the doctor’s eyebrows.
The target was an insulated ground wire.
Not sausage.
Not even remotely sausage.
THE INTERROGATION
Gobshund emerged from the smoking wreckage without a single singed whisker.
He appeared immensely pleased with himself.
Dr. Franken-Fur, whose remaining hair was now pointing in seventeen different directions, approached the creature with a clipboard.
“FRITZ! YOU DESTROYED MY LABORATORY!”
Gobshund rose to his full height.
Which, admittedly, was not particularly impressive.
“FOOLISH MORTAL! YOUR GLASS SHACKS CANNOT CONTAIN THE CHRYSALIS OF MY WRATH!”
The doctor stared at him.
“YOU WERE CHASING A WIRE!”
Gobshund considered this.
Then sneered.
“IT TASTED LIKE BLUE SPARKS AND ANGRY VIBRATING.”
A long silence followed.
Somewhere in the rubble, a smoke detector gave one final, exhausted beep.
THREAT ASSESSMENT & DISPOSITION
STATUS: AT LARGE.
OCCUPATION: Self-Appointed Lord of the Underworld. Unlicensed Excavation Contractor.
KNOWN WEAKNESSES: Sausages, squeaky toys, suspicious holes, and stairs. Especially stairs.
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: A diagonal trench extending beneath the laboratory’s eastern perimeter.
Intelligence analysts remain divided over the subject’s intentions.
Theory One suggests Gobshund is establishing an underground staging network to destabilize international security.
Theory Two suggests he has detected the scent of a hot dog cart five blocks away.
Both objectives present an identical degree of structural peril.
OFFICIAL WARNING:
Do not attempt to reason with Subject 003.
Do not leave food unattended.
Under no circumstances should you ask him if he wants to go outside.
And if you hear scratching beneath the floorboards…
It’s already too late.
Dr. Franken-Fur’s Personal Addendum:
“I set out to create the ultimate subterranean instrument of terror. Instead, I have manufactured a sausage-seeking excavation disaster with delusions of military grandeur.”
“I maintain that the science was flawless.”
“The Dachshund was the problem.”
END OF FILE 003
The Howl-O-Ween Misfits — A LilTuki Original
Some monsters are born. Others are assembled. This one should never have been left unsupervised.
The Laboratory Has More Secrets…
Gobshund isn’t the only experiment to escape Dr. Franken-Fur’s questionable supervision.
Meet Dr. Franken-Fur, the scientific genius responsible for the chaos, and Frankenshiver, the two-pound reanimated terror who’s afraid of his own reflection.
Explore the Howl-O-Ween Misfits and discover what else escaped the laboratory.
One scientist. Too many monsters. Absolutely no obedience training.
Leave a Reply