I didn’t figure I’d need no gun or anything, but I did take my beer. I figured since he’d already dropped his drawers he’d be done hit the bushes, and I thought I could ride around some and listen to country music songs about drinking and cheating and losing love and finding it, since it looked like I wasn’t going to be pumping any red-hot baby batter into my own favorite womb any time soon.

Riding over there, I thought about the injustice of how a few people could fuck up everything. I’d heard about these people sucking toes and stuff. I didn’t want it around me. I even devised a plan. I left out a few details early on there but my wife had gone on to say that she’d seen this guy sitting there in his pickup before, when she’d been going down the road to some other place, just sitting there, not dumping any garbage or anything. Waiting on his next victim, I supposed, some innocent person he could terrorize. I said well I’d just start keeping my shotgun in my truck and ride over that way about every day, and the next time I saw that pickup (she said it was a blue Ford) I’d just stop and haul it out and peck up his paintjob a little bit until he decided to get his ass back to wherever he came from in the first place.

I got over there and of course there was nothing there. Just a bunch of trash and garbage on the ground right in front of the Dumpsters, and treetops people had dropped off, and wet magazines on the ground, and a little thin sad puppy scared of me somebody’d dropped off, so hungry he couldn’t decide whether to stay or run. A son of a bitch who’ll drop his pants in front of some woman he’s not familiar with is the same kind of son of a bitch’ll drop off a puppy like that, thinking somebody’ll give him a good home. Good home, my ass. Some of these Vietnamese around here’ll eat him.