greatdane

A DOG AND A BILLY CLUB

Earl Petty Jr.

(Part 1 of 2)

In fact I didn’t know why I was so tired. If it was the tedium of being broke, the endless pounding in my head from hangover number 96 in this year of our lord, or if it was the vague dissatisfaction I had with my life.

 

I pondered the question while draining the last three cans of beer in the fridge. I decided the reason I was tired was lack of sleep. I went back to bed. I solve more of my problems that way.

 

When I woke up I took stock of my assets. In the living room I had a black and white television. Wheel of Fortune was on. Someone spun the wheel and it landed on “Bankrupt.” I laughed my ass off. On the opposite side of the room was the brown beast, a huge couch I dragged from move to move for the last five years. Its guts were spilling out from the corners of each cushion. I dug through the cracks and checked for change. I found six pennies and a nickel.

 

In the kitchen I had a case of returnable Old Milwaukee bottles, right now the most valuable thing I owned, worth $2.40 at the liquor store.

 

My net worth, all together, was $2.51. And they said I’d never amount to anything. At the liquor store I sat the bottles on the counter, went to the cooler in the back and picked up a six pack of Black Label beer on sale for $2.45. I grabbed a few cents out of a cup of pennies by the cash register to cover the tax and headed over to Janet and Beth’s place.

 

I trudged up the stairs to their apartment over Whetstone Optical and knocked on the door. Janet answered. She was wearing a t-shirt with a smiley face. The smiley face had a bullet hole in its forehead. She was brushing her teeth. She motioned me in, went into the bathroom and spat in the sink.

 

The living room was in disarray; jars of cigarette butts were scattered around the room along with bottles of golden liquid. The floor was cluttered with empty beer cans, plastic cups, crushed cigarette packs and empty CD cases.

 

I walked to the kitchen, broke off a beer from the six-pack and put the rest in the fridge. I went back to the living room and sat in the least filthy chair. “You guys have a party last night?” I asked.

 

Janet emerged from the bathroom pulling her hair into a ponytail. “If you can call it that,” she answered. “Houser and his buddies came over and wrecked the place. That guy is a real pain in the ass when he’s sober. He’s worse than an animal when he’s drunk.”

 

Janet motioned toward my hand. “What the hell is that?”

 

I held up my beer, “Black Label,” I proudly announced.

 

“God,” she said wrinkling her nose, “How can you drink that shit?”

 

“I’m an equal opportunity boozer,” I answered. “Where’s Beth? And what’s in the bottles?”

 

Beth’s still passed out and as far as the jars go you don’t want to know,” she explained. “Last night the toilet stopped working so we had to improvise.”

 

“Bottles of piss?” I said. “Christ, Janet, what kind of shithole are you running here?”

 

Just then the door to Beth’s room opened and out came the biggest goddamn black dog I’d ever seen. It was some kind of half-horse, half-pit bull, all teeth. I stood up and the dog pounced. I screamed like a woman.

 

Next thing I knew I was on the ground and the animal was licking my face. My beer spilled and I could feel my shirt soaking it up. I got on my hands and knees and tried to get up, but the monster was mounting me, and having a hell of a good time at it.

 

“Woo  hooo!” Janet yelled.

 

I fell flat on my face. The beast put both paws on my shoulders, pinning me down. He was still trying to work it in.

 

“Get this goddamn thing off me!” I screamed.

 

The screaming must have set the dog off, because he really started pounding away, knocking a big jar of urine off the coffee table. Several droplets splashed on my face.

 

“Hey Beth,” Janet laughed, “he really likes Earl!”

 

Beth grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it off me. “Down, G. Gordon, down,” she said. “Bad doggy.”

 

I stood up and backed toward the wall. I was out of breath. “What in the Sam Hills of Wisconsin is that?” I gasped.

 

Beth commanded the animal to sit. “Bad G. Gordon,” she said. The dog sat next to Beth. He was almost as tall as her standing when he was sitting. The animal was some sort of Great Dane on steroids.

 

“One of Houser’s buddies wanted to get rid of him last night, and I figured we could use a guard dog. They told me he was really friendly,” Beth explained.

 

“I can see that,” I said, still catching my breath. “I’m used to a little wine and dinner before I take a relationship to that level.”

 

“I can’t believe it,” Janet said, still laughing. “Earl involved in inter species homosexual coitus right here on my living room!”

 

I wiped my face, walked to the kitchen and got a fresh beer. “I don’t see what’s so weird about that,” I said “What’s strange is I’m usually the top man for that sort of thing. I’m glad I was dressed, otherwise I’d be engaged.” I sat down as far away from G. Gordon as I could. He was still looking at me, licking his chops. “You guys want a beer?” I asked. Neither answered.

 

 

 

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