Thursday, October 27, 2005

Pull the Trigger

He'd pissed her off once too often, and deserved what he got. She'd been dealing with his bad moods, his snarling attitude and the way he ignored all his crap and expected her to deal with it for way too long. He was always barking orders, expecting to be treated like royalty, and she'd had enough. She was sick of cutting him slack for having come from a broken home, and scared he'd someday kill her.
He liked to sleep out in the late afternoon sun, and it was as good a place as any to end the wretched relationship. She waited until he was asleep, snuck up on him as he snored and farted off yet another day's dinner, and put the .410 against the back of his skull and pulled the trigger.
It made a terrible mess, but at least he was sleeping on an old cotton blanket in the front yard, and she knew it would work as a great shroud to drag him over to the pigs.
She pulled him into the pen, rolled his body out and watched as they hungrily started chowing down on him. She realized he'd been a pain in their ass for years too.
She dragged the blanket over to the fire pit and burned it. Later, she'd go over to the pen and take out what the pigs had left behind.
Then she would go back to the dog pound, and this time, she sure as hell wouldn't get a rotwieler.

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"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson