Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Story Fragment: My Wife Shot The Dog

I've fallen behind again, so in the interest of staying caught up, I'll post one piece now and something else later in the week.  This is the opening of the story I've been tinkering with lately.  I'm not sure where it's going yet, but let me know if you think this is a good starting point.

It all started when my wife shot the dog.  She’d never liked the dog; from the day I brought him home, she was always threatening to kill him, but I never thought she would actually do it.  Then one night, she just walked into the living room and shot Jimmy Stewart.

The dog’s name was Jimmy Stewart.  I’d wanted to name him after the giant invisible rabbit in that one Jimmy Stewart movie where Jimmy Stewart sees a giant invisible rabbit, but I couldn’t remember the rabbit’s name, so I just called him Jimmy Stewart.  I found him following me around on the street one evening, looking all cold and hungry and lonely, and I took pity on the poor mutt because I figured no one else would.  He wasn’t a good-looking dog; in fact, he looked like someone crossed an Irish wolfhound with a Chihuahua (don’t ask me how that could have happened; I don’t know his parents).  I suppose I wasn’t really surprised when my wife didn’t take to him.  The first words out of her mouth were, “You should have kicked that ugly son of a bitch out in front of the nearest passing car!”  Frankly, I think the only reason she didn’t kick him out of the house herself is she didn’t want to have to touch him.   She spent most of the time hurling insults and blunt objects at him for being a dumb son of a bitch and then hurling insults and blunt objects at me for being an even dumber son of a bitch.  But all that became part of our daily routine.

Anyway, I was sitting on the couch one night when my wife walked in with a nine-millimeter and shot Jimmy Stewart in the head.  Then she yelled at me to get the filthy son of a bitch’s body out of the house and clean all the blood off the floor.  I didn’t really like her bossing me around right then, especially considering she’d just shot my dog in the head, but since she was still waving a gun, I figured it was best to do what she said.  I put Jimmy Stewart in an extra-thick garbage bag and hauled him out to the trash can.

Had I not gone outside at that moment, I never would have seen…

Copyright (C) 2012 by Eric Landuyt

1 comment:

  1. I thought the use of repetition (both in terms of sentences and information presented) created a nice pace for this opening and made it seem more real (as if it was actually narrated by someone instead of obviously written down). Focusing on that more might be helpful to the piece, since some distractions from it, like "don't ask me... know his parents," mess with the faux-casual atmosphere I think you're going for.