Sharp, agonizing pain.
“GET THIS BULLDOG OFF OF ME!” rang through the halls of the White House.
Abe flailed his arm, but the bulldog refused to release Abe’s wrist.
At one point, Abe managed to pry the beast’s mouth open with a fireplace iron, but the dog leapt for his thigh and renewed its grip on the President.
“SON OF A BITCH, THAT HURTS!” shouted Abe.
Abe grabbed an axe from his desk and brained the dog, freeing his leg.
He didn’t bother asking why the axe was there, preferring just to remain grateful for its presence.