My neighbour had a dog with a black mark on his nose. It was a medium sized brown german shepherd, and my neighbour was an alcoholic redneck. He liked to put beer cans on his porch and draw on them with a sharpie to later use as targets. He also liked to throw parties on Tuesday nights and work on junk cars on weekends. I didn't really like him at all.
One day, as I arrived home from a long shift, I was relieved that for once, the damn dog wasn't barking at me. I figured it was asleep or digging something up instead of coming for my throat. Later that night I was woken up by shouting. It sounded familiar, as the neighbour's son got into trouble quite often, then his dad would discipline him. I grabbed my glasses and rolled out of bed to approach the window. I looked outside right when the noises stopped. That was quick – I thought and went back to sleep. In the morning when I went to my car I saw my neighbour. We never exchange more words than necessary, but my curiousity got the best of me, so I turned to him:
- Hey, what happened to your dog? I haven't seen him since yesterday.
He sighed and looked at me as if I was the taxman banging on his door.
- I was teaching the kid to shoot the rifle. Told him to aim at the black mark... the idiot got the wrong one.
