Dog Days
It's a sloppy, rushed job this week as I had to do it in the very last second. I weep for forgiveness.
- - -
Dog Days
The very same morning, Adam had heard several news reports chanting about how it was the hottest week of the entire year. At 9 o’clock in the office blessed with air-condition, this had not seemed like an issue. At 3 o’clock, sweating on the black asphalt, he was ready to reconsider that stance.
He glanced towards his house again, tilting his head back. The house was upside down now, but it was still padlocked. His home key was still broken off in the brand new lock. Nothing had changed. He could feel the black T-shirt clinging to his back, soaked with sweat. In retrospect, black was a poor choice to wear.
He desperately wanted to shower, but as all other homeless men, he couldn’t.
Sighing, he tilted his head back up. His car was still on his spot. He still owned that, but he couldn’t live for long in it, and selling it probably wouldn’t change his condition much.
Homeless. Adam smirked joylessly as he tasted the word. Homeless. He thought he’d have enough money to pay the landlord this month, but no such luck. The landlord had finally run out of patience and locked him out of his home, on the hottest week of the year to boot.
Adam let his head sink down to the ground. He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know who to go to for help. He just wanted to curl up and weep.
A strange sound made his raise his head again. A dog had its leg cocked by the wheel of his car, staring at him with dull eyes as the piss streamed over the hub.
“HEY!” he barked, shooting to his feet. The dog ran away as he yelled. “Get the fuck out of here!”
He glared after it as it disappeared around the corner. Another stray. The neighbourhood was crawling with them after the old Copperfield widow died. Everyone had seen her walk her three whippets every day. No one had expected to find 20 more in her house as they broke the door open. Somehow they had scattered and bred like rabbits. It seemed like it didn’t matter how many dogs were caught, 5 new ones were immediately there to take their place.
Adam blinked the sweat out of his eyes. The Copperfield widow? No-one had moved into her house. If anything, it could probably provide some shelter from the sun.
He left the car and walked. His mouth was dry. He realized that simply moving into her house, homeless or not, was a crime, but was it really illegal to stay there for just one day? The next day he’d leave, go to work and try to find a couch to crash on. The next day he’d try fixing things again.
Who would call the cops, anyway? he asked himself as he crossed the street to get to the right side of the street. He could see her house over in the distance, the mauve paint peeling to reveal large brown patches on the walls. Even closer, he could see that the weeds in the garden were knee-high. He avoided them as he walked towards the front door, not wanting any ticks on his bare legs.
The front doors were locked, but he had almost expected that. He walked around to the back, following a small trail. The backdoor worked no better. He was about to turn around and leave again as he noticed a bent playing card wedged in a window. It opened at the first attempt, and just a peek inside revealed that he wasn’t the first person to spend a day in there. The floor was littered with beer cans, potato chips and even a few used condoms. Adam looked around in disgust as he climbed in. He began having second thoughts about the idea as he felt a syringe crack under his foot. It wasn’t very likely that he would find some place in there that wouldn’t give him a terrible, previously unheard of disease.
He stopped in what seemed to have been the living room. It was much cooler in there, he had to admit that. There were a few chairs left in the room, covered in plastic which in turn seemed to be covered with various bodily fluids. Disheartened, he continued up the dusty stairs. He ignored the graffiti on the walls and continued onward towards whatever he could find.
There was nothing that piqued his interest. A soiled library, a bathroom that had more faeces on the walls than he had ever seen, a broken down walk-in wardrobe. The potato chips and beer cans crunched under his feet like bones, he didn’t bother to step over them anymore. The very sight of this old lady’s home completely ravaged left Adam feeling disheartened, he became increasingly convinced that he would prefer the sun out in the open. He turned to head back outside.
He never made it back down the stairs.
He took the few first steps down, his feet heavy, tearing up little clouds of dust. 6 steps down he stopped, cocking his head slightly to the side, trying to locate the strange sound that was bothering him. A strange, crunching sound…
The dog came into sight, through the doorway down by the stairs. It was focused on the floor, eating the pieces of potato chips it could find. Adam froze, staring at the big, black creature. It didn’t look anything like the other strays in town, and he couldn’t understand how it got in. Holding his breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he took a step back.
The dog raised its head, its large, yellow eyes fixed at Adam.
Without thinking, he spun around and ran back into the hallway, half collapsing through the first door he could find. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it with his breath wheezing. The dog was after him, it was going to kill him, he could see it in its rabid eyes. Frantically, he looked over the room, trying to find anything to defend himself with, anything to help him. The room was empty, the only thing remaining was a worn down bed.
He could hear the heavy steps thumping down behind him, right on the other side of the door. The dog didn’t sniff, didn’t make any noise. It knew exactly where he was, and was just playing with him before the kill. Adam’s chest felt like it was burning, the only thought running through his head was how he was supposed to get out, how would he get out?
Panicking, he tore the mattress from the bed and propped it up against the door, his irrational mind thinking it would keep the monster out until he had opened the window. He stumbled rather than ran towards it, his fingers fumbling with the locks.
The moment he succeeded in opening it, he tore it as far open as it would go and threw himself out, carelessly. He landed heavily on the roof of the story below, rolling down into the high grass from there. Within seconds, he was back on his feet, running back towards his car with his breath burning in his chest.
Alive. Alive!
Halfway there he began laughing despite his chest feeling like it would burst like a balloon at any provocation. He was alive. He was alive!
Despite everything, he was alive!
Back in the house, the dog lost interest in the now empty stairs, and peacefully went back to eating potato chips.
- - -
Dog Days
The very same morning, Adam had heard several news reports chanting about how it was the hottest week of the entire year. At 9 o’clock in the office blessed with air-condition, this had not seemed like an issue. At 3 o’clock, sweating on the black asphalt, he was ready to reconsider that stance.
He glanced towards his house again, tilting his head back. The house was upside down now, but it was still padlocked. His home key was still broken off in the brand new lock. Nothing had changed. He could feel the black T-shirt clinging to his back, soaked with sweat. In retrospect, black was a poor choice to wear.
He desperately wanted to shower, but as all other homeless men, he couldn’t.
Sighing, he tilted his head back up. His car was still on his spot. He still owned that, but he couldn’t live for long in it, and selling it probably wouldn’t change his condition much.
Homeless. Adam smirked joylessly as he tasted the word. Homeless. He thought he’d have enough money to pay the landlord this month, but no such luck. The landlord had finally run out of patience and locked him out of his home, on the hottest week of the year to boot.
Adam let his head sink down to the ground. He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know who to go to for help. He just wanted to curl up and weep.
A strange sound made his raise his head again. A dog had its leg cocked by the wheel of his car, staring at him with dull eyes as the piss streamed over the hub.
“HEY!” he barked, shooting to his feet. The dog ran away as he yelled. “Get the fuck out of here!”
He glared after it as it disappeared around the corner. Another stray. The neighbourhood was crawling with them after the old Copperfield widow died. Everyone had seen her walk her three whippets every day. No one had expected to find 20 more in her house as they broke the door open. Somehow they had scattered and bred like rabbits. It seemed like it didn’t matter how many dogs were caught, 5 new ones were immediately there to take their place.
Adam blinked the sweat out of his eyes. The Copperfield widow? No-one had moved into her house. If anything, it could probably provide some shelter from the sun.
He left the car and walked. His mouth was dry. He realized that simply moving into her house, homeless or not, was a crime, but was it really illegal to stay there for just one day? The next day he’d leave, go to work and try to find a couch to crash on. The next day he’d try fixing things again.
Who would call the cops, anyway? he asked himself as he crossed the street to get to the right side of the street. He could see her house over in the distance, the mauve paint peeling to reveal large brown patches on the walls. Even closer, he could see that the weeds in the garden were knee-high. He avoided them as he walked towards the front door, not wanting any ticks on his bare legs.
The front doors were locked, but he had almost expected that. He walked around to the back, following a small trail. The backdoor worked no better. He was about to turn around and leave again as he noticed a bent playing card wedged in a window. It opened at the first attempt, and just a peek inside revealed that he wasn’t the first person to spend a day in there. The floor was littered with beer cans, potato chips and even a few used condoms. Adam looked around in disgust as he climbed in. He began having second thoughts about the idea as he felt a syringe crack under his foot. It wasn’t very likely that he would find some place in there that wouldn’t give him a terrible, previously unheard of disease.
He stopped in what seemed to have been the living room. It was much cooler in there, he had to admit that. There were a few chairs left in the room, covered in plastic which in turn seemed to be covered with various bodily fluids. Disheartened, he continued up the dusty stairs. He ignored the graffiti on the walls and continued onward towards whatever he could find.
There was nothing that piqued his interest. A soiled library, a bathroom that had more faeces on the walls than he had ever seen, a broken down walk-in wardrobe. The potato chips and beer cans crunched under his feet like bones, he didn’t bother to step over them anymore. The very sight of this old lady’s home completely ravaged left Adam feeling disheartened, he became increasingly convinced that he would prefer the sun out in the open. He turned to head back outside.
He never made it back down the stairs.
He took the few first steps down, his feet heavy, tearing up little clouds of dust. 6 steps down he stopped, cocking his head slightly to the side, trying to locate the strange sound that was bothering him. A strange, crunching sound…
The dog came into sight, through the doorway down by the stairs. It was focused on the floor, eating the pieces of potato chips it could find. Adam froze, staring at the big, black creature. It didn’t look anything like the other strays in town, and he couldn’t understand how it got in. Holding his breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he took a step back.
The dog raised its head, its large, yellow eyes fixed at Adam.
Without thinking, he spun around and ran back into the hallway, half collapsing through the first door he could find. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it with his breath wheezing. The dog was after him, it was going to kill him, he could see it in its rabid eyes. Frantically, he looked over the room, trying to find anything to defend himself with, anything to help him. The room was empty, the only thing remaining was a worn down bed.
He could hear the heavy steps thumping down behind him, right on the other side of the door. The dog didn’t sniff, didn’t make any noise. It knew exactly where he was, and was just playing with him before the kill. Adam’s chest felt like it was burning, the only thought running through his head was how he was supposed to get out, how would he get out?
Panicking, he tore the mattress from the bed and propped it up against the door, his irrational mind thinking it would keep the monster out until he had opened the window. He stumbled rather than ran towards it, his fingers fumbling with the locks.
The moment he succeeded in opening it, he tore it as far open as it would go and threw himself out, carelessly. He landed heavily on the roof of the story below, rolling down into the high grass from there. Within seconds, he was back on his feet, running back towards his car with his breath burning in his chest.
Alive. Alive!
Halfway there he began laughing despite his chest feeling like it would burst like a balloon at any provocation. He was alive. He was alive!
Despite everything, he was alive!
Back in the house, the dog lost interest in the now empty stairs, and peacefully went back to eating potato chips.