Sunday, July 12, 2009

Choices (Retard continued)

He stepped on one of the balls, rolling it around under his foot and the dog jumped for it. He immediately stepped on the next ball and the dog dropped the one she had, leaping for that one. He quickly changed from ball to ball squeaking it just long enough for the dog to take the bait, then switched. “Which ball do you want Retard? The one that squeaks the loudest?” He began doing a bad rendition of a common musical tune on the balls, as the dog continued to jump erratically. “You just want the one that you can’t have.”

He grabbed two balls of the same color, one that had lost its squeak, and threw them simultaneously. The dog chased them down and swooped up the squeaky one. Unsatisfied, he did the same thing again, this time the dog grabbed the one that had lost its squeakiness but quickly realized her mistake and continued after the other one.

He gathered all the balls into a box, spun around and flung them across the yard. The dog gave chase picking up one after another until they all rolled to a dead stop. She looked around confused, then laid down panting.

Years ago, when he was still with his wife, he came home drunk and plopped himself down on the couch. The dog approached him and barked. “What do you want?” She began trying to get behind the couch. He reached back and grabbed one of the many balls stuck behind it. “Is this what you want?” He threw the ball. The dog retrieved it then came back and barked again, and he repeated the process to the last ball. “I hope you’re happy because that’s all there is.” The dog barked again. “Shut up Retard, there’s no more.” He rolled on his side and dozed off.

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