I had been drinking since early morning. It was late afternoon when I got into the old pickup and decided to go home to the wife. We had been bantering back and forth with hateful words to each other almost all night. "It's no surprise to me you lost your job." She must have screamed that at me a dozen times, in just the last few days. Well so who gives a rat's tail. A man has to unwind when he has a shrew for wife. Unwinding for me was having a few beers, "alright, maybe it was more than a few", who counts.
She cared more for her mangy mutt than she cared for me or anyone else. Fine with me, I started hating both of them. Stupid cow fussed and fretted over that beast day and night. "Nice Dog, Good Dog." Damned if I could see anything nice or good about him. Did nothing but eat us out of house and home.
May seemed to get a perverse pleasure by turning her precious mutt against me. It seemed Max...precious mutt...could smell me a mile away, or "maybe she trained him that way". He would always be waiting down the road. As I turned the corner he would attack the wheels of my truck with his wild barking and snapping. May would have to come out of the house to call him, so I could exit my truck. I don't know who looked more crazy her or her stinking dog. "NICE DOG, GOOD DOG," the looney bitch would be chanting all the way into the house. They would both stand at the bottom of the steps while I stumbled my way to bed, not even stopping for dinner. She never had my dinner prepared, but I would smell the steaks and chops she prepared for GOOD DOG MAX.
Like I said, that night I knew I shouldn't have been driving, but told myself I would go extra slow and be real, real careful. As I turned the corner I could see MAX sitting on the tree line a few hundred yards from the entrance to the driveway. What I didn't see was the bag of rags "May" bolting out the front door after GOOD DOG. As Max bolted in front of the truck, it was as if "WIFE AND DOG" were ONE and the SAME. She ended up as part of the hood ornament, he ended up in the back of the pickup, just as nice as you please. Almost as if invisible hands had placed his broken, bloody carcass there. I actually saw humor in the whole scenario.
None of that night was intentional. I never meant to kill MAY or GOOD DOG. When I close my eyes, cold sober now, the horror I see is worse than any alcohol induced image I could have ever seen in my worse stupors.
The face of May and Max seem to intertwine as one. By themselves they were ugly enough. Together their ugliness is almost evil. They will haunt my dreams and waking hours the rest of my life. Even these prison bars won't keep them at bay. Doctors say it's all in my mind. YEAH! RIGHT! "I Bite and Scratch Myself".