Finally, I couldn’t take sitting there anymore. So I reached into my gun holster, clipped to the inside of my waistband, and pulled out my Walther PPK (that’s right, I have the same gun as James Bond, and for those liberals out there, yes I do have a permit for it). I jumped off the stupid slide onto the woodchips scattered beneath it. It was time to put an end to this.
Of course, as soon as I hit the ground, Sparky came charging. For it had been tormenting Chuckles, jumping up trying to grab hold of his leg. And I thought for sure Chuckles was going to pee himself.
As the black mutt charged, I took aim, too annoyed to be scared. Squeezing the trigger, the round thundered out, hitting the dog. I didn’t really see where I hit it, but it slowed down a little. But amazingly, it kept coming. So, I changed the lead to air ratio once more. This time I caught it in the right eye.
Psycho-pooch dropped to the ground and began to whimper. As it lay on its side, I could tell it was struggling to breathe. Its ribs moved up and down, very quickly, most likely going into shock.
I cautiously walked up to it, a combination of burnt dog and the sweet smell of gunpowder filled my nose. At that moment, part of me felt bad….I’d always been a dog person. But the little scoundrel was trying to eat us, so it was the dog or us. And I know, your thinking that there was something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have run away, I only had to run faster than Chuckles. Only that would have left a bloodthirsty creature in the neighborhood of little’ins. C’mon, if a Chihuahua was attacking a little kid or you, don’t tell me you wouldn’t punt it across the yard.
Chuckles walked up and stood beside me, shaking his head. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, or calling the cops. But there was nothing.
“I would say he has slight head trauma,” said Chuckles, starring at the crater in the dog’s skull. Its legs were still twitching, it was wheezing as its breathing become more laboured.
“Well,” I began, knowing what I had to do next, “We can’t let it suffer.” Chuckles nodded. We both reached in and pulled out our shades, and put them on. He pulled out his XDM and joined me in taking aim.
“Its time for you to go to the big field in the sky,” Chuckles said to the dying destroyer. In his shades, he then turned to me. “Double tap.”
“Double tap,” I repeated, “Dog, deuces.” We then sent its soul out into the wild blue yonder in a haze of bullets that General Patton would be proud of. Almost like a twenty gun salute, but with two guns and the fact they were pointed at the dog’s head. The wheezing and movement stopped, for now the swiss-cheesed, lead filled fur ball would suffer no longer.
Unfortunately for us, our troubles had only begun. For no sooner had we taken our shades off, I heard the pump action of a twelve-gauge. Looking across the park to my left, in between a pale blue two-story house and a white picket fence stood a gentleman in his bathrobe. He was yelling something, but I couldn’t really make it out. But I did hear something about police.
Now, I know the right thing to do would be to stay there and explain to the officers what happened. But you know how they treat people who hurt animals these days. Look at Michael Vick. He got two years in the federal pen for involvement in a dog fighting ring. On the flip side, most people don’t know about the other football player, named Dante Stallworth. He got behind the wheel drunk and killed some guy. Mr. Stallworth only got a year in prison, for a killing a person. So living in a society with twisted value codes such as ours, I panicked. And as we stood, trying to figure out what the guy was saying, we heard the sirens.
“Not good,” I said, “I think we should probably go now.”
“What about HHB?” asked Chuckles. He had a valid point, but there was no time to look for him now. And if we were in the pokey, then there definitely would be no way of finding him. They would probably say we killed him, which would be completely absurd.
“No time now,” I said, “We will have to some how evade the cops, then comeback.” Chuckles seemed skeptical of this plan. “Don’t worry, we will find him. And I’ve played enough Grand Theft Auto over the years, this will be easy.”
We darted back to the GSLP, quickly throwing up the doors and sliding in. Chuckles put on his seat belt, and I figured that was a good idea so I did the same. I fired up my high powered V6 GM 3800 series motor, it purred like a kitten on catnip. Putting the car in reverse, stomping the pedal to the floor, and throwing the wheel as far left as possible, I almost pulled off a sick 360. Would have made it the whole way around, but because there was a pickup behind us, I slammed into it, only doing a 180.
“Only a little scratch,” I said, “Insurance should cover that.” I sped down the road, merging back into the main road. Seeing the squad car coming from the right, I turned left, like NASCAR. That’s when I decided this chase would be a tribute to Dale (the greatest race car driver to ever live), left turns only.
Considering the different size in engines, the squad car quickly gained on me. He was hollering through the bull horn for me to pull over, and maybe in some other world I would have. But I kept going straight. Chuckles was sitting nervously, right hand attached to the “oh crap” handle.
The policeman must have realized I was committed, so he began to ram my car. The first nudge shook the car, but somehow I managed to maintain control. The next street, I made a left turn, barely missing a sheriff’s deputy. Unfortunately the city cop behind me wasn’t as lucky. They collided, the sheriff’s car t-boned it and flipped it over, leaving them both in a twisted heap of metal.
Looking further up the road, I saw that the cops had formed a road block. So I took the next left, as they fired rounds through my back window. Hoping I lost them, I made a left turn, but then had to make a right turn. I braced for an impact, because in NASCAR that usually meant something bad was going to happen.
To my surprise, we were back on the other side of the playground. The bad news was that is where the road ended. Building up the speed to 90 or so, I plowed through the fence. In my mirror, I saw more squad cars in hot pursuit. But I failed to see the giant steel slide in front of me.
The right tire climbed all the way up, tilting the car to the left. When we reached the top, it launched the car into a crazy, high flying barrel roll. Thankfully, the spinning was stopped as the nose of the car hit the playground equipment. Hitting the equipment launched us in the air, a gravity and every other scientific law defying end over end flip. Chuckles and I were screaming like little girls who had just seen their first terrifying clown.
The last thing I remember was smashing into the top of the swing set. Then the next thing to come to my mind was the air bag.
What sillyness this recent work of yours is. Nonetheless, I am intrigued by what will happen next!
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