I set Gwendolyn on the cement and she tucks her legs up under. Me and Dag squat close. Shes not gonna bite. She aint got any bite left in her. When Dag holds a Dorito in front a Gwendolyns mouth, she sticks out a pale ass tongue and licks it but its like shes just doing Dag a favor. Me and Dag havent said a single word. Both a us are petting that dog right over the ticks. Its ill as hell but dang. Theres nothing else to do.

* * *

My stainless steel throwing disc is the finest weapon I ever owned. Its not even a contest. Whenever I slide it out of its free of charge nylon pouch I feel full a the magic and mystery of the orient. Its not about ninjas dropping ninjas. Its about being a monk, being for peace and accepting your fate, plus also the fate of everything great and small. Case you forgot, my throwing disc is shaped like a circle but its split into three scythes like a grim reaper has and each a them joins up in the middle in a impressive dragon shape.

* * *

I pull aside some a the fur on Gwendolyns throat and scrape off a few ticks and puts a scythe right against her neck. When the dog whimpers it vibrates the stainless steel dragon and its like the dragons whimpering too. Dag scooches over and holds my shoulder. Her face is closer to mine than its ever been before and she isnt worried about catching my pinkeye or nothing.

* * *

Gwendolyns broke ass tail starts wagging. Wagging cuz she knows. Sharkweek. Sharkweek. Robbie treated his old dog good, right? Far as I can tell he did. Right here I need to try and do just as good, do what a mans supposed to do. Except I dont want to be a man no more, all right? Im just gonna be a little ass kid, okay? Im gonna climb into some nice ass car and trick or treat my ass over in the fancy hood where all the dogs are alive and happy. All right?

* * *