coming out of his backyard after checking
on his feral cat that the mans dog chased who hes cared for for better ten years the cat wasnt a springchicken he crossed their drives began descending the driveway to the street
Not cool man
No, it’s not cool. Sorry.
Cant keep your dog in line maybe .
. .
neighbour lost his shitZERO
to SIXTY DON’T YOU TELL ME HOW TO TRAIN
MY FUCKIN DOG . . .
angrily he raised his voice
neighbour had the high ground advantage realisedunderstood
menaced him threatened to hurl the piece of cordwood he held in his hands at him
Seems to me a man cant keep
his bitch in line aint much of a man
then
turning slightly askewleft he said to the girlfriend An it seems to me a woman who cant keep her
obviously troubled man in line aint much of a woman either
it was unlikely either heard him over
the bellowing DON’T TELL ME
HOW TO TRAIN MY FUCKIN DOG NOBODY TELLS ME HOW TO TRAIN MY FUCKIN DOG. SHUT YOUR
FUCKIN MOUTH OR I’LL SHUT IT FOR YOU. SHADDUP, HEAR ME? SHADDUP SHADDUP. WHY DON’T YOU TAKE YOUR FUCKIN LITTLE
WALK? GO. GO. GO.
somewhere
deep inside epizeuxis surfaced gurgled oozedup in his thoughts Go go go it tickled
him
yah hed go
the neighbour kept raving good chance he might throw the splitwood at his
headhe was on his
toes hopefully hed miss
let him fetch then naturally hed waltzround
to the front steps to return the threat the provocation . . .
he
didnt feel like raving
Good idea man I think Ill take a little walk an read
he smiled up into his leering redblasted face
then opening the book in his hands he turned leftdropped his eyes into
it and ignored whatever was spewingissued from the mans mouth he couldnt
distinguish words now he was reading about the Underworld the hadal
zone about subterranean trenches below twentythousand feet
its hard to hear underwater
1950, Sunday,
12 11. 23
1300, 2sday,
14 11. 23
