by Daniel Kraus
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Dag was in a mood last time I saw her so I oughta walk by quiet. But its Dag! I wave my arms like a fool and just about yell
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For real, I got a mind to Walgreen my ass out a there. But I step closer just to get a better peep. Dags reaching out with what looks like a Dorito and her lips are saying soft sensitive junk to Gwendolyn whos just out a reach shivering real low like dogs do. A little closer, I see how Dags trailed a whole Dorito trail to lure the dog but that dog aint falling for it. Cant tell for sure but Dag might be crying cuz a her huge emotions. Now theres no way I can run off to Walgreen. How am I supposed to leave my best bitch?
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A big brave feeling grabs me. Dags fixed on Gwendolyn, right? And Gwendolyns fixed on Dag? Neither a thems paying attention to me. So I get my creep on and sneak my short ass behind this car without any wheels or doors. I get on my stomach navy seal style and crawl behind this cardboard hill that looks like Deformo probably squats there and I do it easy cuz you know how tight my abs are. Now Im close enough to hear their asses, how Dags all desperate and sad and Gwendolyns moaning and crunching her Doritos both.
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The layouts ideal. Longside the grocery front theres stacked a rusty old washing machine and a big blue postal box on its side and I get right up behind it with Gwendolyn three feet away tops. I pause to get some breaths in and wish I had some a Robbies dog stuff. Doggie toys or doggie rawhide treats, any a that stuff would help right now. Robbie might even know special tricks about how to get a dog to let you be nice. Robbies not here though. I got to do this by myself. I peek around the washing machine real slow and the dogs right there. Right now is when I need to steady hero this scene.
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I leap like a jaguar! Gwendolyn flattens her filthy ass to the cement and Dag cusses a cuss word and then boom, I hit the ground with my arms and legs caging that wild animal. She goes crazy like shes one big hairy muscle, clenching and twisting, but I bust out my courage and stick my hands in that hairy mess and even though theres hot breath and sharp claws flying all over, I grip a hand around a skinny leg and a arm around some bony ass ribs and next thing you know I rock back to my knees and I got that mutt! I got that scraggly ass, mud covered, broke tail having mutt!
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Dags shocked. Real shocked. I try to give her a smile but its hard with this street beast wiggling and chomping. I squeeze tight till some a her fight goes away and then I stand up and hold that dog proud. Dag looks like shes about to poop. I start laughing and I come up to Dag cuz this is what shes been waiting for forever. Not winning class vice president or best debator or top piano bitch. Dags truest wish is to pet this filthy animal and her man made it happen. Her man. Thats me. Hey maybe Dag and me can take care of her together. Maybe Gwendolyn can be my seeing eye dog with a official vest if I do end up scooping my eyeballs out one day.
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Last thing I need is this animal taking a piece out a Dag though so I dig my fingers deep in its tangled up fur. Hold up, hold up. Things dont feel right. I stop walking and feel closer with my fingers. Gwendolyns skin isnt normal. Feels knobby and squooshy like bubble wrap. I hitch the dog up in one arm and brush the fur back so I can get a look. Wheres her skin at? I cant find any pink skin. Wait up. Aw, hell no. Hell no. No, no, no.
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Ticks! Hundreds a ticks! Hiding right under the fur! Big ticks, small ticks, black ticks, brown ticks, yellow ticks, green ticks, red ticks, orange ticks, so many theyre piled like grapes. The dogs shining in the sun cuz a all them fat glossy ticks. I get a disgusting shiver down my back cuz Im touching all a them plump ass blood filled suckers, and when I move my hand even a little the fattest ones pop and bleed out hot. Sharkweek! Sharkweek! I dont even know what to do! Im just standing there holding that sick oozy bitch!
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Dags covering her face with both hands. Dorito dusts smearing all over her cheeks. She starts whining too, at least thats what I think first. But that aint Dag. Thats the dog. I look down and Gwendolyn looks up and even though Ive seen her a billion times its like I never saw her for real. Eyes crapped up with brown scum worse than pinkeye. Nose crusted shut. Gums super puffy and red. And shes shaking. Shaking rough.
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The dogs done fighting her doggie fight. I can tell. Shes not even a dog no more. Shes a ball a ticks sucking her ass dry till shes just a bag a fur. Just like the whole town is sucking Robbie dry, just like I said. Gwendolyn looks at me the way I bet she looked at the evil maniac that abandoned her ass on the street. Its the look of trust. Dogs trusting me to do what needs done.
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I set Gwendolyn on the cement and she tucks her legs up under. Me and Dag squat close. Shes not gonna bite. She aint got any bite left in her. When Dag holds a Dorito in front a Gwendolyns mouth, she sticks out a pale ass tongue and licks it but its like shes just doing Dag a favor. Me and Dag havent said a single word. Both a us are petting that dog right over the ticks. Its ill as hell but dang. Theres nothing else to do.
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My stainless steel throwing disc is the finest weapon I ever owned. Its not even a contest. Whenever I slide it out of its free of charge nylon pouch I feel full a the magic and mystery of the orient. Its not about ninjas dropping ninjas. Its about being a monk, being for peace and accepting your fate, plus also the fate of everything great and small. Case you forgot, my throwing disc is shaped like a circle but its split into three scythes like a grim reaper has and each a them joins up in the middle in a impressive dragon shape.
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I pull aside some a the fur on Gwendolyns throat and scrape off a few ticks and puts a scythe right against her neck. When the dog whimpers it vibrates the stainless steel dragon and its like the dragons whimpering too. Dag scooches over and holds my shoulder. Her face is closer to mine than its ever been before and she isnt worried about catching my pinkeye or nothing.
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Gwendolyns broke ass tail starts wagging. Wagging cuz she knows. Sharkweek. Sharkweek. Robbie treated his old dog good, right? Far as I can tell he did. Right here I need to try and do just as good, do what a mans supposed to do. Except I dont want to be a man no more, all right? Im just gonna be a little ass kid, okay? Im gonna climb into some nice ass car and trick or treat my ass over in the fancy hood where all the dogs are alive and happy. All right?
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Dags crying dry. More like coughing. Like shes run out a liquid. Those are the miserable facts too. Yeah, Dag has her a moms and a pops and a piano lesbian and teachers and math friends and fellow fluters, all that stuff. The truth, though? Shes aloner than me. The only companion she had for real was Lotte and Lotte doesnt exist anymore. Lottes just a address where Dag mails beautiful paper. I mean, look. Dags not stopping the dragon. Dags not saying
Walgreen 2
We hit the door, door does its ding ding, and first thing I do is make tracks to the Halloween aisle and dig up Barack Obama. The eye holes are small and help me only see the stuff that needs being seen. When youre Barack Obama theres no looking back. No looking sideways either. You look straight ahead like a pimp twenty four seven and thats how I plan to roll from here on out.
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Once Im incognito I scope out the register. Dick Trickle must a got his
child abusing ass canned cuz beer belly goatee manager mans the one scanning products. Thats a relief cuz its four in the afternoon and greedy ass children are gonna start knocking on doors any second. Now where did Dag run off? I explained the score on the way over and even though she didnt say much she stood tall like a trooper and pulled the chip right outta my pocket. Shes real eager to get a head start shopping.
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Monster Mash keeps blasting outta the speakers. Thats a dope joint, no doubt, but the third time through Im about to tear my ears off. Finally I peek my mask around the fancy soap corner and theres Dag. Shes got a plastic Walgreen basket heaped with boxes and bottles and shes scowling at a label hard cuz shes what teachers call a good critical reader. Girlfriend looks fierce when shes serious. Man, I never knew a honey so fierce and smart. Theres fancy ass hand towels hanging there and I try to wipe my hands clean. Dags acting strange since we did Gwendolyn and I dont think she needs to see all that blood.
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Barack Obama dances out doing the Monster Mash cuz I figure its humorous but Dags critical reader face doesnt change. She lets me hold the basket like a mans supposed to but Ill be honest. Dags collected so much lethal ass junk it makes my stomach hurt. Shes got rust remover. Oven cleaner. Ant spray. Carpet shampoo. Superglue. Jewelry cleaner. Weed killer. Extremely flammable. Will cause fetal effects. Will inflame lungs. May cause dizziness. Can cause severe burns. Will produce poisonous gas. Flush eyes with cold water. Induce vomiting. Call poison control center immediately. So many hazards my throat clogs up like Im the trick or treater that just gobbled the whole basket.
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I start trying to slow her ass down. Robocop, I dont even know why. But I get super distractionary. Im like
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Bitch shops so hard I cant keep pace. She doesnt even browse her favorite section even though we finally have the funds to buy the most beautiful Lotte papers ever made. Instead what she does is basket up some personal items for Robbie, deodorant and mouthwash and whatnot, and I think its real thoughtful before I realize theres nothing thoughtful about it. Robbies got to look normal and smell normal or arent any parentals gonna let their juniors accept his treats. Dag understands that stuff cuz Dags a girl. But it itches me. Its cold, man. And colds just not how Dag usually is. Usually Dags emotions zoom all over the room.
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Dag makes for the register and I think about all the other stuff we could buy with Robbies cash. We could buy us a burner phone. We could phone us a uniform, spill the truth totally anonymous so Robbie wouldnt know who told. We could buy a scooter that fits both a us and scooter our asses away fast as hell, forever and ever. Or we could buy bandages and antiseptic and spend Halloween with Moms fixing up her sores and saving her from Judge Mathis and Mario Lopez and not thinking about whats going down on Yellow Street. If you got the cash theres nothing you cant do, nobody you cant help.
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By the time I catch up to Dag, goatee managers scanning and Dags flashing the green and goatee managers saying our chips short twenty five bucks. I feel relief! Then it takes one second to start feeling bad about feeling relief. This is Dag here. This is Robbie. Dag and Robbies my closest people. No ones ever supported my ass like they do. So when Dag does skillful subtraction and removes a few items I dont say jack. Beer belly goatee manager man scans again and it totals the exact number of dollars we have. That oughta be what Im feeling relief about. Maybe if I try harder I can feel it.
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Goatee manager man points to my face and asks if we want to buy that too. Say what? Am I gonna buy my own dang self? Its like Im in some kind a supermilk fantasy. Does this mean Jody himself is a poison chemical product? Does this mean we can decide to purchase my ass or not and the choice is up to us? Cuz if thats the case then thats the biggest relief of all cuz that decision is easy. What we need to do is put me back on the shelf before I cause anybody more harm.
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Course what he refers to is Barack Obama. I peel him off and theres nowhere presidential to put him so I set him real gentle on the floor. Dang. Look at that. Hes all inside out and pink and wet. He looks like roadkill. It gives me a sad feeling. All that powerful Barack Obama power I had is flattened out. Dag pays up and Im just standing there staring. Like a zombie. Whispering Monster Mash to a roadkill president. I dont even do it on purpose. Song bubbles out a me natural. How its a graveyard smash. How it catches on in a flash. All that stupid, stupid sharkweek.
* * *
Dag hands me both bags outside. Not in shortys whole life did she ever act this hard. She informs me shes got to go eat dinner with her folks. I ask her how come and she says shes got a big test on Watership Dog on Monday and her folks are gonna quiz her ass at dinner and thats nonnegotiable. I shrug like it aint no thing but she steps to like I burned her. Its weird, yo. She says she emphasized to her folks shes got trick or treat responsibilities tonight so its gonna be a early dinner and shes gonna be back to Yellow Street quick as crap. Girlfriend says it like a threat. Like shes suspecting Im plotting to ditch these bags and screw up Robbies whole thing.
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Just to cool her ass out I asks if Watership Dog is about pirate dogs cuz pirates, plus also dogs, are the funnest stuff they let you learn at school. Dag stares me down like a gangsta. She says its called Watership Down, not Dog, and its not about pirates, or dogs either, its about rabbits. I go like
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After that creepy information she takes off but I holler her back cuz I forgot to tell her about the McDonald feast Robbie promised and if she eats too much Pinebluff Glenn Estates food shes gonna miss out. Dag looks doubtful cuz Robbie promised supermilk earlier and that sure as hell didnt happen. But her doubtful face makes her look more like good old Dag so I swear to her how this time fat boys coming through. Truth is I dont have a clue if thats the case. But Dag at least looks hopeful. Like she still believes in me a little. Thats all it takes for me to get sprung! Yeah, girl. Thats right. Jodys got your back for eternity.
* * *
This time she leaves for real and I stand there being chilly and hoping my shorty remembers to wear her special secret Halloween costume. Lots a junk going down tonight and itd suck balls if she forgot. Now that Midget mummied her ass up in flystrips I oughta focus on my own disguise. Walgreens right here and for a sec I consider slinking my ass back inside to see if I can snowboot more Grishnákh junk. Some Grishnákh junk at least if not the whole dang mightyducking Barack Obama.
Dick Trickle 2
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Believe, yo. Im getting exhausted with ignorant ass fools misreading my jean jacket like I markered it up for their private personal jokes.
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* * *
Homeboys love to read it out loud sarcastic cuz in this part of town theres like a rule how no ones allowed to care about anything, not even if its a masterpiece of motion picture cinema. All youre supposed to do out here is chase pussy and talk smack and acquire a black hoodie to wear on top a your XXXL whitey. But this voice isnt making fun. It sounds serious. Not Éomer son o
f Théodwyn serious but pretty serious. I square up before I turn around just in case I need to defend Peter Jackson and his Oscar winning trilogy more time.
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* * *
Dick Trickle? Like I need this right now? Bony maloney is sitting his skeleton ass on the curb. Never seen him out from the counter before and check it, his ancient ass has legs and feet and everything except one a his legs is gimpy and the shoes got a special heel. Dont worry, his disability doesnt get me feeling a crumb a sympathy. Hes still got the usual Dick Trickle face like he thinks I peed in his old person medicine.
* * *
Heres the thing. He isnt burning up a cig. I always figured him for a high commitment nicotine freak cuz he guarded the Walgreen smokes so dang hard. Instead his big old dentures are chomping a celery stick. Hes got a thermos too that looks like a smoothie but not a good smoothie with ice cream, one with fruit, which is gross, and vegetables, which is even grosser. Maybe its the Walgreen lights but Dick Trickle dont look so phantomy out here. Old as hell but healthy. He chomps his celery and nods his bald spot head at my jacket.
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He goes
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See? Here we go. Now I double wish Id thefted Barack Obama so this creaky ass civil rights mightyducker couldnt get in my grill. That bulls the last bull I got patience for today. I hike up the chemical bags and set to leaving but the dude is like
