Incident at the Star Mart

I went down to the Star Mart one Tuesday to hang out with Billy. It was Tuesday and hot and I was between jobs. Anyway I got there and he was in back on break. Jody said to go on back so I did. Billy was bored so we went and hung out behind the refrigerated section for a while, moving milk around to confuse the shoppers. After a while we got too cold doing that, and Billy said, "You wanna play some ping pong?"

So we went out back. There was a table back there, a little fucked up and with a net made of plastic vegetable bags. We picked up the sandpaper-style paddles and started hitting the ball back and forth, not keeping score or anything. Billy was talking shit about a guy from high school he'd seen getting busted for DUI.

While he was talking this dog came around the corner, from down by the creek, and started trying to hang out with us. It was this poodle, kind of yellowish-white with an underbite and a fucked-up haircut, like someone had started shaving it and given up halfway. It was OK at first, but then the thing started nipping at my ankles and jumping up and scratching my shins. I wouldn't have cared but I was wearing shorts and the thing had thises claws, you know? Like they'd never been cut, ever. Christ, I thought, is there such a thing as a feral poodle? I kept pushing the thing away with my foot between shots. Then, out of nowhere the damn thing clamps down on my ankle! I mean, that fucker drew blood. Without even thinkin' I swung down and whacked it with the paddle. It let out a godawful shriek, like a baboon or something.

"Damn," said Billy, "Wha'd you do, kill it?" But I hadn't. It was backing away from us towards the creek, slowly. We stared at it... its teeth seemed suddenly more menacing now, like fangs. The growl grew louder and seemed to swell and echo, like it was coming from all around us.

Then we saw them, a moving mass of grey and white and black, dirty, curly-haired little dogs, all poodles, moving up from the creek, their growls mixing with those of the yellowed beast at our feet. I looked at Billy and at once we ran to the door... locked.

The herd of poodles was running full bore, and now they were on us. I lunged left and pulled myself up on the dumpster. I reached down for Billy's hand but it was too late, the poodles were on him. He went down fast and I heard the most terrible sounds,,, tearing and cracking of bones... screams like I never heard, before or since, I couldn't take it... I jumped up and pulled myself onto the roof and escaped. I never went back there. It shook me so bad I left town the next day... but I'll never forget the sight of poor Billy covered in those little beasts, their matted curly hair flecked with his blood...

Moral: Never hit a poodle with a paddle.

JH