“I’m hungry,” I tell the woman as she rummages in the refrigerator. My head
aches. The world is wobbly.
She hands me an apple from the refrigerator.
“Eat it on the back porch and then you can play.” She stands with one hand on the open refrigerator door waiting for me to walk away. “That’s all you get ’til dinner,” she says.
I look at the red fruit in my hand and then back up at her.
“Scoot!” she says.
I sit under the porch with Shooey.
“Do you want this apple?” I ask him.
He tries to lick my face.
“No, Shooey! I don’t want dog spit on my face.”
Shooey sniffs the apple and looks at me.
“Are you hungry boy?” I ask. “I’ll get you something.”
Charles sits on the porch reading an Aquaman comic.
“Do you want my apple?”
“What’s wrong with it? Why don’t you eat it?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He takes the apple.
The woman is not in the kitchen. The food cupboards and refrigerator are locked. I open the lower cupboard and fill my front pockets with dry nuggets of Shooey’s food.
“Here boy,” I hold a piece of dog food on the palm of my hand. Shooey gobbles it down.
“Is it good?” I ask. I pop one into my mouth.
“It’s like crunchy, corned beef hash. Like Crispy Treats.”
“Crispy treats are so nutritious, taste good too, and really delicious.” I sing to the tune in my head. “Maybe we could sell these,” I tell Shooey.