"Taking the Dog to the Park"

He drove the Dog to the park and let it loose there. The animal bound about with pent up energy, swinging its body around the structures of the jungle gym and tearing through under the swings. He’d given it a can of food back in the motel room and then led it into the backseat of the car. The sun had completely gone from the sky and the Dog was a gray blur fading in and out of the darkness, coming back toward Dillon and then turning away, and if it weren’t for its heavy breathing in the still air he could’ve believed that it had gone for good. Some part of him needed to lose the Dog, needed to retake the highways and interstates, and put a little more distance behind him.

Light poles stood around the basketball court that was tucked into one corner, making it the single portion of park that was lit, and beneath the lights dark figures stood beneath one hoop in a tight congregation that expanded each time a small flicker of flame appeared among them. He watched them to see if they were watching him as well, and decided they weren’t. He approached so that he would come into the light at the opposite end of the court and held his hands open at his sides to show that he had nothing. The figures, a group of young boys, turned to stare and one palmed something away into a jacket pocket.

“Can I have a hit?” Dillon asked.

He could feel the high coming off them like electricity, dancing in their toes, and thought he might like to trade places with any one of them.

“Can you take a hit?” one of them asked, and laughed. “Depends. We ain’t got no fuckin’ pot if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Whatever.” Dillon stepped forward until he was almost all the way inside of their group. “Just give me whatever you’ve got.”

The one who’d spoken before turned to another and said, “Beast, man, you heard the dude. Hand it on over.”

Beast-man fished a modified light-bulb from his jacket pocket, a plastic bottle cap screwed and melted at the narrow end with a straw stuck through it. Inside the bulb wisps of white fumes still hung against the glass and tiny crystals stood un-melted and stuck to the bottom. Beast-man handed Dillon the strange device whose function wasn’t so strange along with a disposable lighter that had been modified as well to allow for a larger flame. Dillon feigned ignorance so that he might take some time to admire the artistry of the boys and their make-shift pipe.

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude. Shit’s dangerous! Do I need to show you how to work it?”

Dillon held the bulb up near his chest and flicked on the lighter, holding the flame close to the underside of the bulb where the glass had browned and distorted. Wisps of white began filling the chamber and Dillon wrapped his lips around the straw and began to pull, releasing the button on the lighter but still pulling as the fumes kept rising. Then he took his lips away and counted, 1…2…3…, and blew the smoke out and into the boys’ faces. Their leader regarded him with a grin.

“Motherfucker’s fuckin’ mad!”

Dillon wished that one of the boys had brought a basketball. He would’ve really liked to shoot some hoops right then.

He handed the bulb back to Beast-man. “You kids be careful with that stuff, it’ll fuck you up.”

“We’re not kids, dude.”

The Dog stood at the edge of the court and watched them all. Dillon felt a little paranoid. Was the Dog watching him and passing judgment, or simply watching? The boys nodded at it and nodded to each other, then laughed. Dillon didn’t know what they might be laughing about but he stepped from their group and walked to the Dog, who did a few bunny-hops away but then stood still. Dillon wanted to bury his face in its coat, but at the same time to run with it, to chase after it, until the high wore off.

“Boy,” Dillon said, but then couldn’t think of anything else to say. His heart beat in his chest and under his hand where he put it, unusually fast for standing still. “Let’s go home.”

The drug would carry him into early morning and then put him to sleep as he came down.