Dog Days

I was laying on the couch, sweat dripping from me like the saccharine juice running down a popsicle on a summer’s day. I confess it was in July, but this particular moment happened before the sun even cracked through the darkness. Another sleepless night. 

Beside me the fan whirred left to right, pushing the musty air around the room. I guess that’s what kept me up. The white noise drilled into my ears while the thick air drowned me. My phone buzzed and I grabbed it. Fuck. It was already four in the morning; it’s pointless to try and get any sleep past three anyways. I sat up and the leather clung to my back as if it was hot enough to fuse with my skin. 

Now upright, hunched over the lip of the couch with my head hanging as if it was on a string, I reached for my glass of water. As I touched it I couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy because, unlike me, it stopped sweating. That jealousy was revoked the second I took a sip: the water was blood-warm. Before the taste even registered, the temperature triggered the sensation of a mouth full of gore and it made me drain it all out onto my rug. The thought lingered longer than it should have and I spat again.

The puddle on the floor licked my feet and a shudder trickled down my spine. I forgot that I had a notification. I looked at my messages. It was Breanne: her boyfriend cheated on her again. 

“Murder him LOL,” I wrote back. I was serious. If someone I trusted went out of their way to cheat on me at this time of year, I don’t think I’d have the patience to keep my hands dry; it’s too hot to fuck someone in this heat. Then I remembered she lived in another timezone. “NVM, I’m sorry to hear that, you wanna talk about it?”

After locking my phone, I tucked it into the waistband of my underwear and my stomach grumbled. I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. For a minute I was engulfed in the blissful coldness; closing my eyes, I was put into a perfectly temperate winter wonderland. This was Breanne’s world and I would kill to be there right now. Thinking about it sank me further and further into a chilled euphoria. All of a sudden the wonder was broken when the fridge cried in a selfish plea, she wanted to keep the cold to herself. I submitted and shut the door. Like the calm after tripping on a gram of psilocybin mushrooms, a sense of woe still stuck to me and I walked back to the couch. On my walk over, my phone buzzed again -- shrugging itself out of the waistband and crashing to the floor. Shit. I checked the screen, no cracks. Good.

Breanne texted me back, “Yeah, actually, I’d really like that.”

“OK, give me a sec and I’ll call you,” I replied. I went to my room to pick a shirt and some pants. While picking between one of passionate red or one of empathetic beige, I started to melt again. Screw it, she wouldn’t notice anyway, we’ll just voice call, I thought.

I went back to the living room and fused myself back to the couch and called Breanne. She picked up after two rings.

“Hello?” she called into a void.

“Hey Bri,” it called back, “how are you?” 

“Can you put your video on? Please, I need to see a familiar face,” her plea made me regret not choosing a shirt. The heat was intensifying and that regret gradually faded.

“No, sorry, my internet is shit,” kind of true, “plus, you wouldn’t really see anything -- the sun hasn’t even come up yet.”

“You can turn the lights on, you dummy,” she somberly chuckled.

“I’m trying to save on energy, times are tough, I’m sorry,” again, I was indeed trying to save on electricity but I did have enough saved up to keep the lights on for a few minutes.

“Oh.” Whenever she replied with one word, I’d always know she was disappointed.

“But you have me for as long as you need!” I tried to lighten the mood just as the sun began colouring the night sky. “Talk to me.”

“You know, the usual, Ashton cheated on me,” she said with a cutting indifference. “It’s the same whore every time, like, what does she have that I don’t?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“What I mean is that I have tits, she has tits; I have an ass, she an ass; I have a pussy that still gets wet for him no matter what, and I’m sure she has the same!” She cried.

As the sun was seeping through my windows, its rays lightly seared my skin. I moved to the space under my dinner table. Like a lion in the Sahara, I was yearning for an inkling of shade before the light would turn me feral.

“Why doesn’t he at least fuck other girls?” She nearly sobbed.

“I’m sorry to say, but I couldn’t tell you,” I probably could, but I was too busy playing a game of cat and mouse with the heat. At this point, I was latching onto any lifeline of a shadow left in my living room.

“Come on, Manny, I need something.”

“What can I say?”

“Would you fuck me?” The moment she whimpered those words, the sun conquered every last corner of my apartment. Now I had an entirely new reason to be wet.

“Yes, you know the answer is always yes,” I said. Inescapable to the heat, I went to the door -- I might as well embrace it. Sweat leaked from my pores like a fountain in a brothel.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

She couldn’t possibly be asking me to come over right this second. “I’m getting naked,” I said. I turned the doorknob, walked through the threshold, and left my damp underwear in my apartment.

She laughed, “that’s hot.”

“You wouldn’t believe how right you are,” I licked back.

“Say, you should turn your video on,” she flirted. I was already out the front door by the time she made the proposition.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t right now.”

“Come on, you always do this!” She roared.

“But really, I feel like I’m about to pass out. I haven’t slept all night, I’m dehydrated, and I’m…” At this moment, I remembered why I opened the fridge before her and I called: I was hungry.

“Please, Manny, I need you now,” she was sobbing at this point. The thought of swimming in a pool of her tears only filled me with more primal savagery; no matter how salty or warm it was, I would need to inhale the pool of its contents moments before ravaging her. And even before that, I would need to kill and eat anything I could hunt to satisfy a crying appetite.

“I need to go.”

“Manny, pleas--” I hung up and threw my phone on the street. A second later, a truck ran over it while the driver was fixated onto me. Must be nice if you have fucking air conditioning.

I needed food. I needed something. My stomach was convulsing at the thought of fucking before a meal and a drink. Suddenly, at the corner of my eye, I spotted a cat. Without even thinking, I sprinted towards it. The feline darted away, trying to leave a shadow for me to cower into. I wouldn’t let it.

My chest leapt further than my center of gravity during the chase and I dropped to all fours, matching the beast’s form. Eventually, I was within distance and I leapt the way a cheetah tackles a gazelle. I grabbed hold and clutched the cat to my chest as we tumbled. When we were stable, I pinned my prey against the concrete and drove my fangs into its stomach. I lifted my head with a mouth full of viscera. This time I wouldn’t spit. This time I swallowed without a second thought.