Nine:

The crack of Brian's door thundered like the tumult of a glacier torn asunder. Big seemed the paper. Big seemed the house. Big seemed the street Brian lived. Tiny sat a car in the driveway, against which all the bigness did contrast.

"Where's the dog?" The clown caught Brian spying inside the car.

"Excuse me?" said Brian.

"The dog," said the clown. "The ad gave the number to the local police and the police gave me your address."

"Who are you?" said Brian.

"I'm King Tuffy," he said. "See the get-up? See the crown?"

"He's not here," said Brian. "He ran away yesterday."

"That dog better be here when we return," said Tuffy. "Or else."

"Or else what?" said Brian. A competent bully, Tuffy left Brian baffled. Brian glimpsed many eyes in the tiny car as the clown climbed in and drove away.