Chapter 8

“Jimmy, now leave the boy alone—say, don’t I know you? What’s your name, son?” The man has glasses, gray hair, a goatee, and huge forearms covered with curly red hair. Big aviator sunglasses hide his eyes.

Well back to normal. We ‘burn rubber’. Jimmy was now in my lap, licking my face. This thing weighed a ton. Maybe a ton and a half. He couldn’t sit still. His head was shaped like an egg. I don’t think I’d ever seen a happier dog, though.

The car though, the car was ugly. Actually, so was the driver—he looked like a stereotypical hick, or an old, worn-out porn star. Trying to be nice I said, “So tell me about your car, ungh…” that last part was forced out of me as the dog sat on my gut, slurped my face, and then stood up and turned around, put his front feet on the dash board and his back feet on my crotch. (Inmy crotch.) His stiff white tail was whopping back and forth across my face as he barked at the breeze.