The Devil's Pet

Chapter 19

Tuesday June 10, 2008

“Why do I hafta be Dopey when you two get to be Happy and Grumpy?” 

Earl had taken to complaining to Hector about his mask and the fact that they wouldn’t let him use a gun. Not that it really mattered because he liked knives better and probably wouldn’t use a gun but it made him feel lesser than them for the lack of one. So what if he shot a hole in the wall by accident? And the other time the damn gun jammed, so it wasn’t his fault. They acted like he was going to shoot them, and he would never do that, not on purpose anyway.

“How many times do I have to tell you Earl, you’re what Boss says you are and arguing with me about it isn’t going to change anything. Besides Boss is Snow White so what are you complaining about?”

“I’ll take Snow White over Dopey any day!  You see the people in the bank?—when Snow White sticks a gun in their face, they piss their pants—Snow White with a gun is scary. I had a guy laugh at me when he saw I was Dopey.”

“Yeah, I remember that, but I also remember you stabbed him about ten times for it.”

“I don’t like people laughing at me, especially people I don’t know.”

T heard them talking, opened the door and walked out onto the front porch saying,

“Hey Dopey, where are those steaks? I’m hungry. You better not be fucking those things you inbred red neck.”

Then T walked over and lifted the cover to the grill and examined the food. He wasn’t happy with what he saw’

T began to rant at Earl, “What the hell are you doing with the grill?—those things were done ten minutes ago! I swear to Christ if you were alone on an island you’d starve. You could burn anything—meat or vegetables doesn’t matter you can fuck it up and make charcoal. Now grab a platter and take those steaks off the grill before I beat your ass.”

T paced back and forth on the porch ripping into Earl after watching him drink tequila shots most of the afternoon and now trying to cook dinner. It was ugly. As hungry as he was the thought of eating Earl’s food only made his stomach feel worse. No one particularly cared for Earl’s cooking but since he was low man on the crew it was his task when they didn’t order food. No one else wanted to do it because it was considered bitch work. Even though Earl was the first one Boss recruited he was still the bitch, but everyone also knew he was Boss’s favorite. Earl didn’t just obey orders he worshipped Boss and was treated like a favored pet for his loyalty. He had no shame and it worked to his benefit. Occasionally they would have women over and sometimes they could get them to cook a meal. But mostly it was Earl and he always cooked meat and potatoes on the grill. They ordered out a lot.

Earl bobbed and weaved his way toward the kitchen with T close behind. When Earl tripped and dropped the plate full of steaks onto the kitchen floor T went berserk.

“Motherfucker!  That’s your dinner on the floor boy, not mine. You better start cooking another steak for me right now or I’m gonna bend you over the couch and fuck you like it’s Tuesday night movies in the joint. So unless you want to be picking my pubic hairs out of your asshole for the next week you better get my steak going before you do anything else.”

Earl immediately bent over to pick up the steaks, “Yeah, yeah, yeah I heard you the first time I’ll clean them all up and do yours special, OK? Besides if you keep yelling you’ll wake up Boss.” 

Earl didn’t look up when he replied. He was afraid of T, so was Hector but especially Earl. He remembered men like that from his year in prison. Being small and young he got abused inside and saw that same look in T’s eyes sometimes, the look like he was the entertainment. He’d been raped in prison and swore he would die before it happened again. If it came down to it Earl thought Boss would protect him from T but he didn’t want to test it.