Yard Dogs

yarddogsalt

Haymore, lissen. You hear me? This here is the onliest phone call I kin have.

Whaddisit you want now, Rhonda Jo?

$400. I’m in the fuckin’ lock-up, Haymore. Two deputies and some Barney Fife lookin’ asshole from Animal Control come by early this morning. They carried me off to jail. Jail, Haymore, I’m inna goddam JAIL….

Calm down Ronda Jo, ain’t no call to yell at me. Jist chill, baby, an’ tell me how come you…

You gotta git $400 to that damned Shylock bondsman across from the jail. It’s them pups you gimme, Haymore. Panties and Bra. I tole you that double wide don’t have room for one let alone two pit bulls, but nooooooo, they was a gift so I jist had to keep ‘em….

Rhonda Jo, you love them pups. Panties and Bras, them’s your babies.

Them pups is put me in jail, dammit to hell.

Jist leave off your sore-assed yellin’ and tell me what happened.

Las’ week this here van come up in the yard. It was them jehova wetness people. This here ole woman come up to the door with a handful of bible comic books. I seen her through the winder and was gonna ignore her figgurin’ she’d jist go ‘way. But she seen me through the screen door and commenced to knockin’ and callin’ out. I reckon thas’ what woke up them dogs. Panties he come rushin’ out from under the trailer with Bra right behind, them big ole pups was growling like bears. When that ole woman seen ‘em she made a run for her van but she tripped over that tire you left in my yard. Panties was shakin’ her coat collar and Bra was grabbin her shoes off’n her feet. All the time she’s screamin’ loud nuff to raise the dead. I kept yellin’ at her to shut her damn mouth, which it’s your screamin’ woman that’s rilin’ my dogs, but she just lay there bawlin, till this ole four-eyes geezer come down outta the van with a walker. Whiles I was tryin’ to git Panties and Bra on their chains he got her up in that van.

Did you talk to ‘em, Rhonda Jo?

I couldn’t. Assholes wouldn’t roll down the winder glass. I kept peckin’ on the winder, but that ole man jist stared at me. Ole fart had coke bottle glasses inch thick, he musta been a hunnert years old. Had on a suit like dead people wear. That old woman, her eyeglasses was bent all funny, she was tryin’ to put the van in gear, still screamin’ at me. When she took off like to run over my foot. Good riddance. If that ole woman had of shut her yap she’d still have her shoes, her coat, and her dentures. I got her bible too. It’s the one with the chewed off cover.

Haymore, you still there…?

Haymore…?

Haymore…?

Goddamn you Haymore!”

© Gary Ives
Published 9 January 2014 in The Story Shack
Illustration by Joe Zabel

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