by Jeff Strand
I supposed there would be a lot of fame associated with being “the kid who was digested by a dog without actually being eaten by the dog.” But I’d be dead and unable to enjoy it.
Now the dog growled. It was a long, low growl. My family had never owned dogs, so I wasn’t entirely sure how to translate this. My cat’s communication was simple: Any noise it made meant either “Feed me” or “I hate you.” Though I knew enough about dogs to realize that the growling didn’t mean it wanted to be stick-fetching buddies, I didn’t know how close it was to biting the doll in half.
I put out my hand. “Hey, boy.”
The dog did not stop growling. I wished I had something to toss it as a treat. Unfortunately, I hadn’t brought either of my toes.
Dammit! I should’ve asked Adam to get them for me! They could be sewn back on!
“Who’s my precious baby?” I asked. “Who’s my lovey lovey wiggle wuggums?” I didn’t say this in the standard baby-talk voice, which probably reduced its impact. The dog looked at me as if to say.. .actually, I have no clue what the dog was thinking. Nothing good, I assume.
“Do you need me to climb over and help?” Kelley asked.
The fact that she hadn’t already climbed over the fence to help made it clear that she didn’t really want to do it. I didn’t blame her. At this point, I wouldn’t blame her if she lassoed me with a steak necklace and fed me to that beast.
“No, it’s cool,” I said. “I’ve got this covered.” I crouched down, putting myself at eye level with the ferocious monster. “What’s your name, buddy?”
There was a name tag on his collar, so I crept forward a couple of feet, v-e-r-y slowly, to get a better look.
The dog’s name was Tyler.
“Hey, we’ve got the same name,” I said. I gave the dog a great big friendly smile to show him that we were awesome friends and I meant him no harm. “That’s pretty cool, don’t you think?”
I’m not sure why I thought Tyler the Dog would give a crap that we had the same name. His growling continued. My hands were sweating like a zookeeper in a sauna (or, I guess, anybody in a sauna—I don’t know why I singled out zookeepers), so I wiped them off on my jeans and then crawled forward a bit more.
The growling definitely got louder.
“Maybe you should just leave it,” said Kelley.
Not a chance. If I was going to go after gun-toting thugs to get the doll back, I sure wasn’t going to leave it in the jaws of a ginormous dog. One of our neighbors had a dog, and I’d occasionally seen the white cotton innards of its stuffed toys scattered throughout the yard.. .and that was a wiener dog. If I didn’t get the voodoo doll back, I had no doubt that Tyler would shred it down to the individual threads.
I crept a bit closer.
The growling got even louder.
I crept back a bit.
The growling didn’t get quieter.
“You know, Tyler, we’re alike in more ways than just our name,” I said to the dog, not quite sure where I was going with this yet. I thought about it for a second. Nope, nowhere to go with that line of logic, so I switched gears. “If you give me back the doll, I will find you the biggest, juiciest strip of bacon that has ever been gouged out of a pig, and we’ll—”
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked a gruff voice behind me.
What was I doing exactly? Having an English-language conversation with a dog in an effort to persuade him to give me back a doll. It’s probably good that I was interrupted.
I glanced over my shoulder. It was an old man in a brown jumpsuit with lots of grease spots on it. He wasn’t pointing a shotgun at me, but from the looks of him, I suspected that he had shotguns hidden all over this place for easy access.
“Your dog has my doll,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s kind of what you asked, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Okay, maybe not. Your dog has my doll, so I’m trying to get it back.”
“You need to move along. You’re not welcome here, you thieving bastard.”
“I’m not thieving anything! I’m trying to get back what your dog thieved. Stole. What your dog stole.”
“If you don’t want to lose a hand, you’d best be going.”
I stood up.
“Please, sir, I’m not trying to cause any problems. All I want is my doll back.”
“You punks are always throwing stuff at my dog. He’s a good dog. Never hurts nobody who’s pure of heart.”
“I didn’t throw anything at him. He knocked me over and took it!”
“Well, that’s your side of the story.”
I stood up as straight as I could, which was kind of difficult because my foot was really starting to hurt again. I hadn’t quite noticed that it had gone numb. Maybe I couldn’t negotiate with a canine, but I was not leaving this junkyard until I got my doll back.
“Sir, you have stolen property. You can give me back the doll, or I can come back here with my dad’s lawyer. Do you really want that?”
The old man spat out a small brown blob of something nasty. “I ain’t scared of lawyers. My nephew’s a lawyer. I think he’ll give your poppa’s lawyer a run for his money.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s just a stupid doll! What are you going to do? Play make-believe with it?”
The old man whistled, and Tyler (the dog version) bounded over to him, the doll still in its mouth. The old man took the doll from him and wiped off some slobber.
“Grandpa?”
“Now I told you to wait inside,” said the old man to the little girl who’d also come out of the structure. She looked about six years old, and she had golden curls and big eyes and wore a simple pink dress.
“I know, Grandpa,” said the little girl. “I just got scared.” She lowered her eyes. “I get scared a lot now that Mom and Dad passed on.”
“I know, Gertie, I know,” said the old man, “It’s hard. Is there any way I can make you feel better?”
She wiped a tear from her eye and then looked up. “I sure would like that new doll you’ve got.”
The old man nodded. “Well, Gertie, I don’t know anybody who would be coldhearted enough to refuse a doll to a precious little girl.”
“Right here,” I said, waving a hand in the air. “You don’t want that doll. That doll is garbage. It’s gross.”
“It’s the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen,” said Gertie.
“That doll is crap,” I said. Was six years old too young to hear the word crap? “I mean crud,” I corrected. “And it’s not mine. It belongs to a little girl on a farm who looks a lot like you.”
“I’d give anything to live on a farm,” said Gertie. “She’s so lucky. I bet she has hundreds of dolls.”
I looked over to Kelley for assistance. She was staring through the fence at the unfolding events as if unable to believe what she was witnessing.
The little girl’s eyes widened. “Oh! Your foot is bleeding! Grandpa, we need to call a doctor!”
“We’re not calling anybody but the cleanup crew to gather his scattered remains if he doesn’t get out of here,” said the old man.
As if on cue, Tyler the Dog let out a threatening bark and then growled some more, keeping his mouth open enough to reveal what looked like about six thousand sharp teeth.
“I’m not leaving without the doll,” I said.
“You don’t have a choice in this matter,” the old man told me. “You are trespassing on private property, and the doll now belongs to my granddaughter. I don’t know what’s so special about this doll that you would deprive a dying little girl of the joy she would receive from it, but it’s time to let it go. Walk on out of here.”
He handed the doll to the little girl, who beamed and hugged it to her chest.
What was I supposed to do? Tackle the little girl? Let out a battle cry and wrestle her to the ground? I guessed that the doll was about as safe as it had been since the car had gotten stolen,
but still, to be this close to getting it back...
What would happen if I did tackle her?
Tackling a terminally ill six-year-old girl with deceased parents, angelic features, and golden curls was probably not good for one’s karma, but I didn’t believe in karma, so.
No.
No, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
No.
Of course, I didn’t have to tackle her. I could just grab it out of her hand. Yeah, she might cry, but I’d cry if I lost any more toes, and which would be more pathetic?
I tensed up, ready to do what needed to be done.
“Ew, it’s covered in dog spit!” said Gertie, tossing the doll back to the Rottweiler. It caught the doll in the air and shook it, and as the world began to spin again, I flopped back onto the ground.
I realize this chapter is running a little long, but I don’t want to use that as the cliffhanger. It’s too close to what’s already happened, and I don’t quite trust that it will keep you reading to the next chapter, not with so many other entertainment options available to you.
As the blur became shapes and then objects with color and then something that passed for the real world that wasn’t being very nice to me lately, I realized that I was moving. Not gracefully, but I was on my feet, doing sort of a zombie-like stagger as Kelley held my hand and tried to keep me upright. We were no longer in the junkyard, but we were, unfortunately, still in the dangerous part of town that contained the junkyard.
“Watch your feet,” said Kelley. “Uneven sidewalk.”
I looked down at my feet and wished I hadn’t. I really needed some shoes. All of this blood was truly horrific and unfair to the people around me who had to look at it.
But hey, I was still conscious. Still fighting to stay alive. I’m not saying that I’m a Greek god or anything, but you’ve got to admit that my bravery was pretty impressive. I mean, sure, James Franco cut off his own arm in 127 Hours, but that was a movie, and this is real life. And I mean, sure, the movie was based on a true story, and I’m not trying to say that losing a couple of toes is as traumatic as cutting off your arm to free yourself from being pinned underneath a boulder, but.. .give me my moment, okay?
It really is past time to wrap up this chapter, so I’m going to do the best I can with the whole cliffhanger thing, and I hope you’ll stick with me.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” I asked Kelley.
CHAPTER 14
“No,” Kelley replied.
“Okay,” I said.
I noticed that Kelley was holding the doll. The doll! She had it! Right there! In her hand! Holding it! Yes!
“You’ve got the doll,” I told her.
“I know.”
“You’re the best girlfriend ever.”
“I know.”
“Will you marry me?” I asked.
“Not right now.”
There was a cab parked at the end of the block. The same cab as before? As we got closer, I could see the driver, and, yes! It was! The same cab! Right there! Waiting for us! Saved! Saved! Saved!
Adam was seated in the front. He kind of looked permanently traumatized, but I couldn’t see well enough to be sure.
Kelley and I got into the backseat. I hoped the cabdriver didn’t try to add a surcharge for bloodstains.
The driver turned around. He looked exhausted. “Got any Red Bull?” he asked.
“Not on me.”
“Bummer.” He looked sad.
The cab pulled away from the curb. My vision was finally clear, and my brain was less foggy, and it seemed like the right time to ask millions of questions.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I got the doll back,” Kelley said.
“Thank you. How’d you do it?”
“I asked nicely.”
“No, really, how’d you do it?”
“I screamed and climbed over the fence. Then I told him that since his junkyard was connected by a secret passageway to a chop shop, he probably didn’t want me to have to call the police.” “Good thinking.”
“It didn’t work. But I told him that there were a bunch of shot-up, dead criminals in the chop shop and somebody might think he was involved. That worked.”
“Then you carried me over the fence?”
“Do you think I carried you over the fence?”
“I guess not.”
“He opened the gate and let us out.”
“That was nice of him.”
“He wasn’t that nice about it.”
I leaned forward. “Hey, Adam, how are you holding up?” “I’m not. Please don’t ask anymore.”
“So where are we headed?”
“While you were off getting mutilated, I was able to make some calls,” Kelley said.
“With my phone,” said the cabdriver, apparently wanting to make sure he got credit for his role in solving our problems, if I were to ever write a book about them.
“The lady at Esmeralda’s House of Jewelry said that she’d be happy to take a look at the doll and that she’d stay open late for us.” “Sweet!”
“I called your mom and assured her again that you weren’t dead.” “Thank you.”
“She sounded mad.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“And that’s without me telling her about the car. You get to do that.”
“Joy.”
I wondered how much trouble I’d be in, if any. If this situation were an algebra equation, variable A would be the dismantling of my mom’s car. Variable B = Disobeying her by not coming home when told to do so. Variable C = Letting too much time pass between reassurances that I wasn’t dead. However, variable D = Gory foot injury, which would gain me sympathy points. Variable E = Relief that I wasn’t dead. Variable F = Carjacking victim. I wasn’t driving where I was supposed to, but the actual theft of the car wasn’t my fault. Variable G = Car was not actually damaged, just taken apart. Maybe there was some blood on the paint, but when she got the car back, it would still be in perfectly decent shape.
Actually, the car might have taken a bullet hit or two. Variable G probably had to be removed from the equation if I wanted to be mathematically accurate.
In terms of getting in trouble, SUM (A + B + C) < SUM (D + E + F), so I’d be fine.
If you really stopped to analyze things and ignored elements like Ribeye still being alive and possibly vengeful, and lots of questions I’d have to answer from the police, and no guarantee that the doll could be stripped of its power, and possible infection that could cause me to lose my entire leg, and terrifying nightmares for the rest of my natural life, and unresolved guilt about the death of Mr. Click, and the possibility that our replacement history teacher could be even meaner.. .things were delightful.
I noticed that the cab’s fare meter was getting close to triple digits. None of us had credit cards, and I didn’t think we had a hundred dollars between us. That didn’t even count a tip. I was pretty sure this guy would want a tip.
“Well,” I said, trying to think of something to say that would lighten the mood, “we’ve sure had an.. .ummm.. .wacky night.” Kelley glared at me. “Wacky?”
“Parts of it were wacky.” I forced a smile.
“Don’t try to lighten the mood.”
“Sorry.”
“Sometimes it’s okay for the mood to be grim.”
“Gotcha.”
A tear trickled down Kelley’s cheek. She wiped it away.
“Do you want to know what happened to my foot?” I asked. “You told me.”
“When?”
“After we walked through the gate.”
“Oh. What did I say?”
“You said the carjackers used the pin on the doll.”
“Yep. My toes flew right off.” I swooped my hand in the air to demonstrate how they’d flown off. I wasn’t doing so well with the advice about it being okay to be grim. I guess I’ve just never been particularly mopey.
&
nbsp; “Are you sure they didn’t do it with.. .I don’t know, pliers or something?” It was kind of cute how Kelley was clinging to that last shred of nonbelief in the supernatural.
“No. It was the doll. Do you think you could love somebody with only eight toes?”
She gave me a really funny look, and that’s when I realized that we had never said “I love you.”
Was now the time? Weren’t people supposed to express their true love at stressful moments when one of them was injured? What if the doll got poked again and my head flew off without me ever getting to tell Kelley how I truly felt?
Maybe this wasn’t a good moment. Maybe this was the worst possible moment. Maybe only a rock-stupid, nose-picking, drooling, “Duuuuhhhh!”-taying imbecile could think this was an appropriate moment for matters of romance.
I wished my life came with a musical soundtrack to help me figure out how to behave. Maybe the hit single “Love Theme from A Bad Day for Voodoo” was playing right now. What if with a single kiss the entire world and its problems could disappear, if only for a moment?
Well, okay, the entire world had sort of vanished during my dizzy spells, and it wasn’t such a great feeling. But this would be different.
It’s a bad day (bad day) for voodoo.
Girl, you know I’m right.
A bad day (bad day) for voodoo.
Even though I guess it’s night.
I’ve gotta go for a kiss.
Somethin’ I just can’t miss.
’Cause we could be in bliss.
So girl please don’t diss.
And I hope you don’t hiss.
A bad day (bad day) for voodoo.
A bad daaaaaaayyyyyyyy for
voo-hoo-hoo-hoo-doooo-ee-oo.
I started to lean in for a kiss.
Horror movie music began to play on my soundtrack.
I realized that this was not going to be one of those cinema moments where the hero and heroine suddenly start passionately kissing. I quickly reversed gears before Kelley noticed my bad timing.
