Hours passed before Larry woke from a restful sleep. He opened his eyes and saw the underside of a bridge that crossed over a small stream. Dozens had gotten by without toll. The union would frown upon his lack of work ethic, but extracting money from the unwilling was work for dwarfs and leprechauns. Larry rose and made his way up to the road. A small dog watched in horror as a trailer towing Kenworth mowed Larry down. His little troll body was now bloody road slobber with chunks of dirty hair. The dog briefly tasted Larry's remains and ran into the woods. Fuck Larry.

does this go on?

Add on, if you wish.

Lol!

Does this mean that the dog engaged in some reverse necro-beastiality?

I like to leave interpretation of my stories to the reader.

True art is understood on many levels.