The dog. The dog lay on the bed. He had taken it over a long time ago. I slept on the floor with a sheet and a pillow. The pillow went between my legs and the sheet underneath my right hip to help my posture. I had bad posture since I was young. The doctors told me I was going to have a crooked back when I was old, so the dog poisoned my wife three years ago. I had begun to suspect him of doing the same to me.
I had spent the night doing cocaine again and had caught him. I’m not sure of that. But my nose hurt and my eyes were blood shot. And the dog was still on the bed.
The wood floor had hurt my back.
I was married only a couple years ago and I slept on the bed with my wife. It was a different bed--one that I could sleep on. I slept at my mother’s place now. She had this large house with no rooms. So I slept in the study on the floor next to my dog Joseph who slept on the bed.
My back hurt from the night before. Sleeping on the floor is a painful task and I did it every night for a long time. So I left the ground walked 17 steps to the bathroom. Looked in the mirror. Walked down 24 stairs, turned right and walked four steps into my mother’s bedroom—“COCKADOODLEDOO!”
Her alarm clock had failed 170 days ago. I graciously woke her up with the sound of a rooster. She grew up on the farm so I assumed she would be use to the noise, but every morning, the remedial task seemed new and exciting to her. I would enter her room—“COCKADOODLEDOO”—she would clutch her heart, open her eyes wide, jump to her feet and come running after me. I was always successful in helping her out of bed.
She cooked me breakfast that morning (bacon, just bacon). I didn’t eat eggs and I didn’t eat toast--I was a vegan by nature. She sat down with her eggs and toast, while I ate my bacon. She was about to talk and ask me questions I did not want to answer, so I casually threw a piece of bacon at her eggs. I missed and the bacon landed alone on the right hand corner of the table. The bacon teetered on the verge of a near death experience when the mother would say, “Will you stop.”
I would laugh and tell her, “No I haven’t stopped.” But I did stop; I was a liar for many years, among other bad habits I had picked up from my late wife. She was a wonderful lady. If you met her you would think so too.
“How did you sleep?” my mother would begin the question again.
“I did not sleep, I went out and bought drugs again,” I said.
“You did not buy drugs.”
“I did.”
“I did not hear you leave.”
“I did leave and I did buy drugs, I don’t remember doing it, but I have decided I am addicted to all sorts of drugs, like heroin and such. So don’t tell me what I do and don’t do.”
With this she continued to eat her eggs, scrambled. They were in a delicious mess across her blue plastic plate with tiny scratches from years of use.
She looked at my bacon trying to use her mind powers to force me to eat a piece. When this failed, she said, “Aren’t you going to eat your bacon?”
“I tell you, I haven’t eaten my bacon. It will go cold and I still would not eat it. Not today and not tomorrow.”
“Why on earth would you not eat your bacon?”
“The dog.”
“The dog!”
“The dog has tried to poison my food and I will not eat it.”
“The dog! Why on earth would the dog poison your bacon?”
“He poisoned my wife, and he is after me now too. He took my bed and he uses my toothbrush. I tell you this dog must go. I do not like him.”
“Your wife? Poisoned? You were never married!”
“Yes I was. Three years ago, my wife died. I was 27. She died from food poisoning. I remember. Do not tell me I don’t remember my wife dying.”
“You never had a wife! You’re 15! Are you playing with me again, Alex? Because I think you are playing with me.”
“I did have a wife. Her name was Beth and she had pretty blue eyes. Yes, pretty blue eyes.”
“Your sister! You think your sister was your wife! Dear God! Your sister!”
“I will have no more of your shenanigans mother.”
And with that I left the living room table. She was being rude this morning. I did not feel like playing her games, not when my back hurt from the long night, my veins pumped and thrived from the heroine and my noise hurt from the cocaine. Not on a day like today would I take her shenanigans.
As I left the room, I screamed —“COCKADOODLEDOO!” She clutched her heart, her eyes bulged from the sockets and fell into her eggs.