Ol Slingshot was a vicious snarling beast of a dog. He spent his days wandering a large stretch of land that he considered his own. Back roads of rural farmland that were generally abandoned when not in use.
He was called Slingshot cause he had one eye and a strange piece of ancient artifact embeded in his ass. "Most likely from someone shooting him with a slingshot" Pa MacDonald drawled out to old Ma Kettle when their aged carcasses were humping in her cowshed.
Slingshot could recall quite distinctly the smell of that varmint who done it to him. A smell like a skunk but grasslike and smokey...and the smell of biscuits, Slingshot recalls to himself as Pa rubs the spot with the ancient carved totem embedded in his ass.
At the same time a few miles off Miles Stimpy recalls out of nowhere the strange artifact that he once found while rock hunting along an old empty road that he had drifted onto. He had idly slipped it into his pocket and continued on. He was excited to study it later when he could get a fresh smoke and sharpen his trans temporal perceptions...psychometry the nerds back at the Parapsychology College he attended when young called it. He knew it merely as "the knack of knowing". A pang of regret hits him as he recalls the delicate carving like the waving lovecraftian tops of certain drawings on lower right side, a pattern like those branch/twig pedal things. This time of knack knew that he had lost a precious key to a gateway that he wishes he could have explored.
Drifting in memory he finds himself on that road. Shocked back into body consciousness by the sonic assault of deep guttural waves bouncing off his hollow internal organs like a drum. He eyes flipped open and as his pupils dilated into focus there was a mangy snarling beast bearing down on him. Altogether too close for comfort. Before he had time to think he hand was motionless in the air having releasing a rubber cord that made a dull twang. A twang that was almost simultaneous with a whelp and a howl. The image of that dog with one eye staring with fixed hatred and the other bloody and vacant turning its head around to contemplate a full attack is quickly followed by one of that same dog tail between its legs running off as fast as it could. As the dog diminished in size and the attack adrenaline quickly faded he felt for the first time a sense of regret. The knack told him that he had lost something very important. He hand quickly searched his pocket. GONE! FUCK!
He has shot the dog in the ass with the little carved artifact. Probably a ritual item from the Devonian Age made by Fishmen whose memory only haunts the darkest of primordial phantasy.
Ol Slingshot thinks to himself...if only I had a chance to meet that dude again. I would tear out his throat. At the same time Miles faintly wishes he could get his hands on that dog...the "knack" knowing he could carve that artifact right out of that dogs ass.