fucking self. You can go fuck yourself, you fucking fucker." He sounded cheerfully obstinate as he tore off the top of his can of beans and started scooping them out with his fingers. "Tastes good," he said as black beans dribbled down his chin. "You're missing out, you dumb bastard. They taste real good."
A dog howled in the distance and the old man jumped at the sound. He set his can of beans down on the hood and rushed back to the cab of the truck to get a weapon, licking his fingers as he went. The can slid off the hood and clanked on the pavement, spilling black beans out over the wet concrete. The old man got a shotgun out of the pickup and then climbed into the empty back end to try and locate the source of the howl.
I nervously waited to hear if another dog answered the first. I'd be in a precarious spot if a pack of dogs decided to come our way.
Another howl echoed over the field and I struggled to pinpoint its origin. The old man had trouble locating it as well and spun in circles in the back of the truck as he looked.
"Come and get some you dirty dogs." The old man shook his shotgun in the air. "I'm sick of eating beans! I'm ready for some delicious dog meat." He pronounced the word 'delicious' with salacious flare and licked his lips afterword. "Come try and take a bite of me and I'll chew your shitting heads off. I'll bite the fuck out of you!" He snapped his jaws and stomped around in the back of the truck as if performing a tribal dance.
"This old preacher has a dirty mouth," I said to Stubs. "He's going to get himself killed out there if he doesn't shut the hell up."
The old man had no interest in being quiet. He started to whistle and slap his thigh as he called out to the dogs. "Come here, dickhead. Come get some. You can try to eat me if you want, but I haven't wiped my ass in two weeks." He chuckled as he danced. "I'm going to taste like a big mouthful of shit, you turd lickers. Come get some!"
I couldn't help but laugh, but then I heard the dogs running through the weeds behind me. The old man had gotten their attention, but I would be an easier target.
Stubs heard them too, and his back bristled as he turned and growled at the overgrowth behind us. The preacher was still thumping around in the back of his truck, cursing at the approaching pack as he tried to guess how many dogs were out there. The weeds rustled too close for comfort and I debated what to do next as I aimed my Glock down, past my feet.
"If you're out there, then come out and help me kill these dogs," said the preacher. "I won't shoot you. At least not until the dogs are dead."
I cursed in frustration as I watched the weeds behind me shake in the distance. The dogs were moving closer, and my location would be revealed to the preacher if I had to defend myself. The best option was to take him on his word and get to the truck. I grabbed Stubs and held my gun high in the air as I stood up. I wasted no time running, the pistol held above my head with my fingers splayed out to show they weren't on the trigger.
He laughed as he pointed his shotgun at me. "I knew it! You dirty mother fucker, get in here. What's that you got there? Is that a dog? Are you carrying a damn dog around?"
I'd been hiding about twenty yards from the truck and I covered that ground quickly. "His name's Stubs." I tried to hand the puppy up to the preacher, but the man just pointed his shotgun down at my head.
"How dumb are you, boy? You just come running up at me while I've got a shotgun pointed at you? What makes you think I won't pop your head like a watermelon?"
I sighed as I looked up at him. "I thought I had the word of a preacher."
"Words are cheap."
I clenched my jaw and glared at him. Stubs was in my left hand, and the Glock was in my right, still in the air. I might have a chance of ducking and shooting the old man, but it would be a harrowing attempt.
"I'm just fucking with you, kid!" The old man guffawed and offered a wide smile adorned with
A dog howled in the distance and the old man jumped at the sound. He set his can of beans down on the hood and rushed back to the cab of the truck to get a weapon, licking his fingers as he went. The can slid off the hood and clanked on the pavement, spilling black beans out over the wet concrete. The old man got a shotgun out of the pickup and then climbed into the empty back end to try and locate the source of the howl.
I nervously waited to hear if another dog answered the first. I'd be in a precarious spot if a pack of dogs decided to come our way.
Another howl echoed over the field and I struggled to pinpoint its origin. The old man had trouble locating it as well and spun in circles in the back of the truck as he looked.
"Come and get some you dirty dogs." The old man shook his shotgun in the air. "I'm sick of eating beans! I'm ready for some delicious dog meat." He pronounced the word 'delicious' with salacious flare and licked his lips afterword. "Come try and take a bite of me and I'll chew your shitting heads off. I'll bite the fuck out of you!" He snapped his jaws and stomped around in the back of the truck as if performing a tribal dance.
"This old preacher has a dirty mouth," I said to Stubs. "He's going to get himself killed out there if he doesn't shut the hell up."
The old man had no interest in being quiet. He started to whistle and slap his thigh as he called out to the dogs. "Come here, dickhead. Come get some. You can try to eat me if you want, but I haven't wiped my ass in two weeks." He chuckled as he danced. "I'm going to taste like a big mouthful of shit, you turd lickers. Come get some!"
I couldn't help but laugh, but then I heard the dogs running through the weeds behind me. The old man had gotten their attention, but I would be an easier target.
Stubs heard them too, and his back bristled as he turned and growled at the overgrowth behind us. The preacher was still thumping around in the back of his truck, cursing at the approaching pack as he tried to guess how many dogs were out there. The weeds rustled too close for comfort and I debated what to do next as I aimed my Glock down, past my feet.
"If you're out there, then come out and help me kill these dogs," said the preacher. "I won't shoot you. At least not until the dogs are dead."
I cursed in frustration as I watched the weeds behind me shake in the distance. The dogs were moving closer, and my location would be revealed to the preacher if I had to defend myself. The best option was to take him on his word and get to the truck. I grabbed Stubs and held my gun high in the air as I stood up. I wasted no time running, the pistol held above my head with my fingers splayed out to show they weren't on the trigger.
He laughed as he pointed his shotgun at me. "I knew it! You dirty mother fucker, get in here. What's that you got there? Is that a dog? Are you carrying a damn dog around?"
I'd been hiding about twenty yards from the truck and I covered that ground quickly. "His name's Stubs." I tried to hand the puppy up to the preacher, but the man just pointed his shotgun down at my head.
"How dumb are you, boy? You just come running up at me while I've got a shotgun pointed at you? What makes you think I won't pop your head like a watermelon?"
I sighed as I looked up at him. "I thought I had the word of a preacher."
"Words are cheap."
I clenched my jaw and glared at him. Stubs was in my left hand, and the Glock was in my right, still in the air. I might have a chance of ducking and shooting the old man, but it would be a harrowing attempt.
"I'm just fucking with you, kid!" The old man guffawed and offered a wide smile adorned with
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