Further computations and fretting, and then eventual unconsciousness. When I came to, I noticed the window blinds had lost their afternoon glow and gone dark, almost. Sunset.
Tabby was heading back from work, for sure.
I downed a few more beers and scooted across the boulevard and took my position on the sidewalk a little ways down from her community's orange iron gate. I felt like a tourist, like someone's dad or granddad who didn't know exactly where he was, but thanks to the combo of beer, pizza, and raw nerves, I was feeling pretty close to cool none the less. The sunset behind me was perfect, blue and purple and orange, with a breeze picking up to take the edge off the afternoon heat. Breathing non motel room air made me feel temporarily free.
The guy working the booth stepped out and called over, "Hey, you can't stand there."
"What,"I asked.
"You can't sell stuff here. You can't bother people. You gotta go away."
I nodded with deference and respect. When you've been keeping a low profile, when you've got nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, you naturally try to stay as chill with authority figures as much you possibly can. "I'm waiting here for Tabatha Catherine," I said. Saying her name out-loud made me feel weird. My hard-on twitched.
The guy, with his black Dickies uniform, square shoulders, and clipboard,said, "She don't live here anymore."
I felt that. I felt it harder than I thought I would.
Then the guard looked like he'd just realized something, and said, "Unless it's like dogs. You're talking about dogs?"
YOU ARE READING
THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
