Smash cut to: Russian countryside, Scruffums is playing in a field, with some other nondescript
dogs.
My youth was filled with hours of play. Every where I turned, my fellow dogs were bounding and
leaping, tugging of war, and so on.
Montage of scenes where Scruffums plays with other dogs, looking positively delighted. Tail
wagging, and so forth.
Then, continuing the montage, but now with additional narration boxes:
It was torture and despair.
It was hell.
It was a saccharine, candycoated,
lie.
Cut to: Scruffums and another dog, Squeezer, who is very young.
It was then that I met Squeezer. The beast with the fire in his eyes.
Montage of Scruffums and Squeezer playing. Chasing butterflys, etc.
In the last panel of the montage, narration: From the first minute I met him, I knew that Squeezer
would be the one to kill me.

Exterior, Church, Day:
Narration box: Some folks say that every dog has his day. But like all proverbs, that is a lie.
Zoom in on church steeple, with sound effects of the bell things chiming.
A God. Damned. Lie.
Close up on a floppy eared mutt. The dog looks stupidly happy, despite being the source of the
pessimistic narration.
My name is Scruffums, and what I have seen would drive the strongest to madness.