Still fighting.
Ok then. We’ll do it her way.
*****
I carry Lucy out into the parking lot and lay her down. She sniffs the ground weakly. Her paws shake with the effort. She looks up at me with pleading eyes. She knows what I want of her. But she is so very tired. She falls into the gravel. Some of her wounds open up again. Blood drips, but no piss.
I’m talking to her. I don’t know when I started. I don’t know exactly what I tell her, but I know that it is true. The world fades out around us until we are the only two things left in it. I make her a promise. I know that I mean it.
I will not let her die.
Lucy squats. My heart sits too large in my chest. It kicks and kicks. Lucy yelps. She squirts hot amber piss onto the parking lot. A flood of it.
Tough little bitch. Proud little warrior.
When she is done Lucy limps over to my side and leans against me, confused by the noises I can’t help making. I stand in the hotel parking lot and cry over a puddle of dog piss.
I made her a promise. I will keep it. Lucy will not fight again. She’s fought enough. Me? I’m just getting started. If Jesse has a problem with that, he better be ready to scratch.
We’ll see who is cur.
Bastards of Apathy by Jason Duke
Nothing would keep the egg from frying on the sidewalk-Angel Rodriguez was that cocksure about it. He looked to the sky where the smog had turned the desert sky from blue to hazy green. The noon sun hung brutal like a furnace over Angel’s head, blasting down on him through the smog.
His homeboy Lauro Cavazos stood next to the gleaming metal statue of the Phoenix (called Garfield Rising), the statue donated by the young hipster artists a block up Roosevelt Street at Alwun House as a symbol of the efforts to gentrify Garfield district. Their motto: using the power of art to transform community. The metal bird rose from a nest of metal flames, screeching down on Angel like it wanted badly to peck out his eyes.
Just in case, Angel kissed the egg for luck. He said a little silent prayer to let him win the bet with Lauro because money was always at the top of the list of things to pray for. Then he shotgunned the egg so hard at the rusted metal pedestal the Phoenix was perched on, he felt the air snap, saw the little sonic boom part the oven heat rising on the air.
The egg sizzled. Lauro stooped to the alligatored sidewalk; put his face near the egg.
But nothing happened.
“It isn’t frying.”
“Just wait.”
