It was too late. He’d tasted blood and now, it was in his blood to want more of it.
That’s what the sheriff had told pop the day he came to our house. There was no hey, sorry for the misunderstandin’ or nothin… No, hey son, mind leavin me to yer parents for a minute a sugar coatin’ what little me was about to see.
I heard ol’ Jack howlin’ before I saw him. I guess the old sheriff really wanted to drive the point home and back in those days, and round here no less anyways, that was seen as normal behavior.
Old Jack had been my best pal back then. See, folks like the sheriffs kid didn’t take so kindly to me. I guess this town didn’t like us God-fearin’ southern folk.
My pop was a tax man, he was gone to DC for ’bout six months of the year, and when he was back he’d lock himself away most days in his office.
Ol’ Jack had been his way a sayin’ he was sorry for not bein’ around much. I’d taken to him right away, he was smart as a whip. He never barked at no one that didn’t deserve it in my book.
I’d say ask anyone, but it’s a mess out there. I doubt no one can hear this anyway but it’s soothin’ to think my childhood dream a bein’ some fancy disc jockey had finally come true.
Told ya mama. (Ha)
Anyways, so Ol’ Jack was hollerin’ from in back the patrol car an when I realize he’d not even had the decency to put my poor pooch in the back seat. I’d screamed at the sheriff ’til he came and popped the trunk of the vehicle tellin’ me to keep clear cause I might get myself bit. who knows what an injured animal might do.
Got me to wondering what kinda injuries would lead one to let somethin’ so innocent and loyal as a man’s dog friend suffer like that, alone in a stuffy trunk.
Shoulda put Ol’ jack out of his misery the moment he took the first shot. Even child me knew that. But he left the honors to me. I can’t tell you the feeling of disdain I had in my heart for that man as I’d pulled the trigger and sent my poor pooch to doggie heaven.
There was no savin’ him. He’d bled just enough to make it clear he was on his way out the door. I’ll never forget the smug satisfaction I’d read all over the Sheriffs face. Lookin’ back from this very moment, based on what I seen this mornin’ it seems ironic his partin’ words that day had been. “Some dogs instincts get ’em killed.”
I never seen someone so set on chasin’ their target so hard they miss the truck thunderin’ through the intersection he was dead set on crossin’ without lookin’ both ways like they insist upon in his line of work. *laughter*
I see those kinds a things most days out of the week these days. Nothin’ surprises me. But it’s goin’ on three months of this and I’m just not sure the rehabilitation them priests and slick suits and special ops types is offerin’ is helpin’ much.
Although Catherine Sapernathy did pause longer than I was accustom to seein’ before tearing her overgrown nails into one of the suit types eyes. That was a sight I might like to unsee. But, at any rate, there was a split hair of a second I thought she might not, and then she did anyway so I guess almost doesn’t count in this case.
All this has got me to thinkin. Maybe it wasn’t nothin’ in the water that drove all these folks I known my whole life to be nuttier than a jar of crunchy peanut butter…
What if it was just the shit they buried deep and carried with ’em in secret wherever they went too. Like, their demons, or whatever, it would explain the reason they had about a hundred padres hauntin’ the parameters of Hill Valley.
Anyway, that’s all I got for ya’ll today. If it is what I think it is, Ya’ll better be at peace now, keep those inner demons down, ya hear?!
Sleep cozy and keep away from them bed bugs.
To Be Continued…