The citizens of Marstown knew trouble was brewing. The tension hung heavily in the air like the humidity before a big storm. Yes, dark storm clouds were definitely on the horizon for Marstown, and when it hit there would be devastation all around. It had happened once before, about four years ago, but everyone agreed -- this one was going to be the "Mother of all Storms!" A genuine cataclysmic upheaval. The signs were everywhere, but they were especially evident when Willie was around. Willie had attitude. Well, okay, Willie had always had attitude, but it was infinitely worse since last Thursday. After the public proclamation by Chairman Quid, Willie had become so utterly enraged that he attacked and killed Hattie Campbell's cat in her front yard. Prissy was a Persian, about 3 years old, and had never bothered anyone. Willie didn't care! A point had to be made, and Prissy was nearby. Besides, she was just a cat! No one misses cats! Yes, there was trouble brewing in Marstown. It was going to get ugly.

Willie sniffed at the "gift" he had just left Pastor Arnold. Yes, it had the right "bouquet," and he had placed it perfectly in the center of the pastor's front lawn. A fitting gesture, Willie thought to himself, for the "Amen" the mindless cleric had uttered following Chairman Quid's announcement last week. What were these men thinking?! How dare they allow such a thing?! Willie was fuming, almost as much as the pile he had just left on the preacher's lawn. Willie kicked some grass in the air with his hind legs in a final display of disgust, and sauntered off down the street. Stephanie Jones, the dispatcher for the local Fire Department, saw him coming and quickly snatched up her little kitten and took it inside. Willie had the look of death in his eyes, and Stephanie was taking no chances.

"People of Marstown," Quid bellowed over the PA system last Thursday during his monthly town meeting, "It has come to my attention that the thinking of 'Outsiders' has crept more and more into our fair community. We have taken the appropriate action to assure that you, the good people of Marstown, are kept protected from such thinking. However, ridding the town of 'Outsiders' has not fully solved the problem; 'Outsider' thinking has infected the minds of a few of our residents. These people, with their infestation of mind, must be found and ... uh ... persuaded to return to the pattern of previously approved thoughts." Chairman Quid paused and glanced cautiously at Willie, who was looking quite pleased at this announcement, undoubtedly believing it would generate a greater work load as he helped the town fathers effect the "solution." Quid took a deep breath and uttered the fateful words -- "We've decided to bring in another dog to help Willie with the work load."

Chairman Quid knew Willie was going to take it hard, but there was no option. Willie's methodology was anything but subtle. Willie was a thug, not a thinker; he did not have the finesse to persuade, merely the brawn to brutalize. Willie was what Marstown needed to protect herself against "Outsiders," but for those citizens who needed educated, not eliminated, Willie was simply not the dog for the job. A dog was required with something more than air and muscle between the ears. Willie didn't meet the qualifications. "We have chosen Pepe, a Chihuahua from Mexico," Chairman Quid announced. He was the logical choice -- bilingual, small and sneaky; all ears and eyes. Pepe could watch and listen without the people of Marstown being aware that he was even around. The town fathers would know in very short order the identity of those infected with "Outsider" thoughts. They would then deal with them in a "Non-Willie" manner. Quid also hoped that just by announcing there was a "spy" working the town, that the people would realize the need to suspend all Non-Marstonian thoughts and actions from their lives. After all, Pepe was peeping!

Sadly, the plan didn't work well. Pepe had visions of grandeur. He too, like Willie, believed there was one dog too many serving as the official enforcer/informer of Marstown. Willie might have the brawn, but Pepe had the brain. A showdown was inevitable. Thus, the town awaited the storm they knew would soon come. It hit on a Wednesday evening when Willie came home from a long day of terrorizing a new family of squirrels in the park. It seemed his work was never done, but, as he dragged himself back to the town hall and the comfort of his special dog house, he was looking forward to the snack he knew the town fathers would have waiting for him in his very special dish. Two years before, after a very special "solution" against a new citizen who dared to question one of Chairman Quid's rulings, the city fathers had given him a bright yellow dish with "Killer" written on it. Willie loved that dish, and would eat out of no other.

As Willie walked wearily into the yard, he glanced over to the spot where his dish lay. He stopped dead in his tracks. He had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things. His dish had no snack in it. The snack was gone. Instead, Pepe sat inside the dish licking his lips and smiling. Lying next to the dish, with a contented look on her face, was Fifi, the poodle Willie had long sought to impress. What happened next would be debated by the people of Marstown for years to come. Little Timmy Sorenson, who was a block over at the time, swore he saw Pepe fly at least ten feet into the air. The sound of the fight could be heard for blocks. No one dared come close to the scene; all retreated hastily to their homes. Soon the night grew still. The storm had passed.

Fifi never spoke much again after that night, and never again left her yard. She had been found wandering the streets the next morning, dazed and disheveled, muttering unintelligibly. Pepe was never seen again. It was rumored he fled to Mexico. Others whispered about town that Willie had gotten his "snack" that night after all, there being some continuing debate, however, as to whether that "snack" was Pepe or Fifi ... or perhaps both. Whatever happened, it seemed to put a little pep into Willie! He was a new dog, although, as he walked down the street of his beloved town, he had this unexplainable urge to try something new for lunch. Making a left on Indiana Drive, he headed for Taco Bell, wondering if they served french fries with their burrito plate.