Sleeping dogs Lie
for a prompt from roque_clasique over at Spnrountable's Truth and Lies.
Dammit. Miss that dog, yeah, yeah, gimme that back. He was a good dog, I know he liked you boys, and you figured he was kinda sweet and stupid like most Rotties are, right?
Yeah, pass that back, you sonuva..
Idjits. You were wrong, dead wrong- he acted just like most Rotties, sure.. but most Rotties ain't guarding the only safe haven in the lower 48. Rumsfeld was a hell of an actor- I ever tell you why I named him Rumsfeld?
Well, I would, if you'd quit hogging the damn bottle. You want the story, give it over here.
Don't look at me like that. He used to look at me like that, every time I sat down to eat a burger, like I never fed him and he was just wastin' away. Shi..fooled you, I saw it, more than once. But not me, so you can just stop that, boy. Raised enough real puppies, I'm immune. Put them eyes to use on your brother. See what he gives you.
Not gonna give it back. Get your own.
Damn dog. Named him Rumsfeld 'cause he was a natural born liar. Never stopped. Lie on the ground, lie on the sofa, lie on the goddamned pickup truck in the winter if you ran the engine a little while.
Sleep all day, eat me outta house and home, bark at the goddam mailman, mailperson, what the hell do you call them now?
No, don't tell me, that's a whatchacallit.. rhetorical. Just like a dog.
Shut up, 'm telling this story. And no, I told you already, get your own.
Keep your hand over there to yourself or I'll start smacking it. This one's mine.
He'd lay right there on the porch steps and never move when strangers came by, till they went for the door. Then he'd growl, but his tail'd be thumpin' like he didn't really care and was too lazy to get up, but he was pretty smart about people. Damn sight smarter than you.
Shut it. Your daddy taught you better than that.
Respect your elders. Like you ever listened. Rumsfeld, now, he listened good.
Well no, not to you, dumbass. Who the hell does?
That dog could look real mean, but he knew I wouldn't stand for him chasing customers away. Or he was lazy. Anyway.
Most people just walked wide around 'im and came right up to the door and he'd let em. Sometimes..mostly. He'd woof once case I didn't hear the door, and then he'd just lie there, lookin like he went back asleep, and wouldn't never pay strangers no mind. He did though, all the time. I knew.
Ever since that one time..Mailman came up the steps with a package, and Rumsfeld, he didn't let out a peep. Didn't know what to make of it.
Lady even remarked on it. Not much of a guard dog, she said.
-yeah, it was a lady.
You tell me what to call it, then, college boy.
Never told you not to answer me, I did tell you to quit hogging the bottle though.
Man telling the story needs a drink so he don't get get dry, idjit, so you get to listen and wish you had a drink like me.
You watch your language, now. That ain't even possible.
So, Mail lady come by, I saw the dog didn't even wake up, just rolled one eye over her and let her walk right up. So I didn't expect nothing, y'know?
I opened up, reached for the box to sign for, or whatever, and the black-eyed bastard dropped the pen, grabbed my arm instead and was already grinnin'.
I knew I'd been had good and just started thinking what that thing could do if it managed to haul me out of the house, figured I was screwed like I never been before, and maybe a bunch of other folks just as screwed by the time it was done.
But when that screen door swung open, Rumsfeld stood up and stretched, and when she grabbed me he hit her from behind, shoved her right across the threshold into the trap.
That demon started screeching about prophecy, and black dogs and who knows what all, and Rumsfeld, he just flopped down right there, lying all comfy, like he was going back to sleep. Swear he was laughing all the way through the exorcism.
And then after that, I called Jim Murphy to come and help me fix the roadgate up a litte, he showed up in his collar an' all.. and Rumsfeld started right in makin' up to him, trying to convince Jim I never fed him, again- pastor give him half his steak. As soon lie to a preacher as a demon, that dog.
Lyingest dog I ever saw.
S'why I called him Rumsfeld.
But you know what, boy?
After that demon, I just let him lie.
My hand to God, it's true.
Shut up or you won't get no more of this at all. You had plenty.
Well, who did, then?
Lie like the damn dog, you... I hardly got a swallow, you just let me run on talkin' all that time while you're drinking all my whiskey...
Dammit. Miss that dog, yeah, yeah, gimme that back. He was a good dog, I know he liked you boys, and you figured he was kinda sweet and stupid like most Rotties are, right?
Yeah, pass that back, you sonuva..
Idjits. You were wrong, dead wrong- he acted just like most Rotties, sure.. but most Rotties ain't guarding the only safe haven in the lower 48. Rumsfeld was a hell of an actor- I ever tell you why I named him Rumsfeld?
Well, I would, if you'd quit hogging the damn bottle. You want the story, give it over here.
Don't look at me like that. He used to look at me like that, every time I sat down to eat a burger, like I never fed him and he was just wastin' away. Shi..fooled you, I saw it, more than once. But not me, so you can just stop that, boy. Raised enough real puppies, I'm immune. Put them eyes to use on your brother. See what he gives you.
Not gonna give it back. Get your own.
Damn dog. Named him Rumsfeld 'cause he was a natural born liar. Never stopped. Lie on the ground, lie on the sofa, lie on the goddamned pickup truck in the winter if you ran the engine a little while.
Sleep all day, eat me outta house and home, bark at the goddam mailman, mailperson, what the hell do you call them now?
No, don't tell me, that's a whatchacallit.. rhetorical. Just like a dog.
Shut up, 'm telling this story. And no, I told you already, get your own.
Keep your hand over there to yourself or I'll start smacking it. This one's mine.
He'd lay right there on the porch steps and never move when strangers came by, till they went for the door. Then he'd growl, but his tail'd be thumpin' like he didn't really care and was too lazy to get up, but he was pretty smart about people. Damn sight smarter than you.
Shut it. Your daddy taught you better than that.
Respect your elders. Like you ever listened. Rumsfeld, now, he listened good.
Well no, not to you, dumbass. Who the hell does?
That dog could look real mean, but he knew I wouldn't stand for him chasing customers away. Or he was lazy. Anyway.
Most people just walked wide around 'im and came right up to the door and he'd let em. Sometimes..mostly. He'd woof once case I didn't hear the door, and then he'd just lie there, lookin like he went back asleep, and wouldn't never pay strangers no mind. He did though, all the time. I knew.
Ever since that one time..Mailman came up the steps with a package, and Rumsfeld, he didn't let out a peep. Didn't know what to make of it.
Lady even remarked on it. Not much of a guard dog, she said.
-yeah, it was a lady.
You tell me what to call it, then, college boy.
Never told you not to answer me, I did tell you to quit hogging the bottle though.
Man telling the story needs a drink so he don't get get dry, idjit, so you get to listen and wish you had a drink like me.
You watch your language, now. That ain't even possible.
So, Mail lady come by, I saw the dog didn't even wake up, just rolled one eye over her and let her walk right up. So I didn't expect nothing, y'know?
I opened up, reached for the box to sign for, or whatever, and the black-eyed bastard dropped the pen, grabbed my arm instead and was already grinnin'.
I knew I'd been had good and just started thinking what that thing could do if it managed to haul me out of the house, figured I was screwed like I never been before, and maybe a bunch of other folks just as screwed by the time it was done.
But when that screen door swung open, Rumsfeld stood up and stretched, and when she grabbed me he hit her from behind, shoved her right across the threshold into the trap.
That demon started screeching about prophecy, and black dogs and who knows what all, and Rumsfeld, he just flopped down right there, lying all comfy, like he was going back to sleep. Swear he was laughing all the way through the exorcism.
And then after that, I called Jim Murphy to come and help me fix the roadgate up a litte, he showed up in his collar an' all.. and Rumsfeld started right in makin' up to him, trying to convince Jim I never fed him, again- pastor give him half his steak. As soon lie to a preacher as a demon, that dog.
Lyingest dog I ever saw.
S'why I called him Rumsfeld.
But you know what, boy?
After that demon, I just let him lie.
My hand to God, it's true.
Shut up or you won't get no more of this at all. You had plenty.
Well, who did, then?
Lie like the damn dog, you... I hardly got a swallow, you just let me run on talkin' all that time while you're drinking all my whiskey...