The Mad Mob

     We got up the next morning and the fucking fire is still there and the maniacs are starting to herd.  Great.  So, I try to think of where to hide this stupid dog and come up with the attic.  Maybe they won’t think to look in the attic. I walked him at 4 am, so I’ll hide the puppy there and tell the mad mob that their Holy Heinous has gone to the Central African Republic (CAR).  Why not?   That’s a long way from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  

      So, I pick up this son-of-a-bitch puppy from the couch, climb the stairs, and pull down the stairs to the attic.  Bushington used to hang out there.   So, I move Bushington’s blanket from the side and put the puppy on it.   Then, I start to walk away, but the puppy tries to follow me.  So, I let the puppy and I get a cage we used to have for Bushington, and put this puppy in the cage, and move the cage to the attic.  I turn on the attic light, walk down the stairs, and put the stairs  back in the ceiling.  There, now, I’ll tell the mob the puppy went to save the soul of sinners in CAR.   Why not?

*

    The doorbell rings.  I repeat to myself “Central African Republic.  CAR. Sinners.  Central African Republic.  CAR.  Sinners.”  I look through the peephole and see flocks of people and the fucking fire in the middle of my yard.   I wish we had a chain lock or I had an AK-47.   I open the door a bit and the door is pushed open by the mob, so I project:  “The puppy isn’t here”.  

     The people are like millions of GPS systems all looking for the same destination.  Idiots.  They go everywhere in my home:   the bathrooms, kitchen, bedrooms; no regards for me or my family.   I think of calling the cops.  Then, they discover the attic.   Shit.  

     The mob carries the puppy back to the fire and the stupid prayers start.   A young woman in a dress comes to the puppy and say, “Please, Puppy, let my parents love each other again and stop arguing.”   Then, she kisses the puppy on the head and waits by the fucking fire.  Stupid dog.  

*

    My family and I decide to have another family meeting.  It’s Sunday, so there’s no school and we head down to the basement.  We consider calling the police or the fire department and decide to call the cops.  In eight minutes, the police arrive, sirens blazing.  So, I, being the patron of the house, go out to greet the cops and tell the policeman this is private property and all of these idiots are trespassing.  Idiots.  I hear one of their prayers.  Let their son heal.  

     The policeman is kind and asks people to please leave this property and perform this religious service somewhere else.  

    “But this is where the puppy’s holy fire is,” one of these morons says.

    Holy fire?   Bullshit.  It’s a PITA (Pain in the Ass) for me and my family.  We’ve spend a day trying to put out this goddamn.  I wish God had given us a rainbow instead of a . . .

      Wait, God doesn’t work in fires; Satan works in fires, not God, but that means . . .   Nah, he’s just a puppy, he’s not Satan.  It can’t be.  

    There’s  a movie called, “The Usual Suspects” which says:   “The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Played was making people believe that He doesn’t exist.”  

    But our puppy?  I look outside and the fucking flame is still there and his cult of morons are still following him.  Damn it.   So, we already tried having a priest exorcise the puppy.  

     So, we have a family discussion in the basement and I tell the rest of my family my crazy idea and everyone sits and listens.  There’s  a moment of silence.     Then, my wife says, “But there are other places in the Bible where fire is used to represent God”.

    “Where?” I ask her.  

    “Think about the bridesmaids who had the oil to see Jesus, the burning bush at the mountain, John the Baptist saying in the future we’ll be baptized by fire.  So, maybe the puppy is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

     There’s a pause while I actually consider my wife’s bullshit.  Then, I shake my head and come back to reality.  

     “Bushington fucked the bitch next door who gave birth to this goddamn puppy.  So, he didn’t have a virgin birth.  He isn’t Jesus.  He’s just a bad dog.   A really, really bad dog.”

      More silence.  

      Then, my wife says maybe she should try talking to the mob outside.  Give it a woman’s touch.  Sure, why not?   

But, this is a mob, individuals think rationally, mobs don’t.  So, she goes out and tries to get the mob’s attention by shouting, stomping her feet, but for a moment, nobody notices her.  Then, the mob talk like the background noise in a movie, then ten of the men pick her up like a rockstar at a concert.  My wife screeches and before I can stop them (I can stop them?) they lift the puppy in the air, the mob bows to the puppy together, and throws my wife into the fire.  

     I feel like a skunk in the headlights.   It takes a moment for me to register what’s happened, but I come to, and say “God, help me,” and run into the fire.  

    There’s a sense of numbness that disappears in five seconds in a fire, then a sharp pain.   I lift my wife over my head and run back to our house.  

   “Stop, drop, roll,” I say, and she does.  The fire goes out.  She then hugs me and cries.   I wonder what our family discussion will be tonight.  

*

      I lock the door and call ATD about installing a security system. The dawn comes and the mob starts to wean.   But as the mob walks away, I see the remains of a small skeleton in front of the puppy and call 911.  

     The police take five minutes to come and they see the human skeleton.  The police call the Homicide Units and a Medical Examiner.   A policewoman also asks if I have a security camera.  I don’t.  Wonderful, something else I’ll have to invest in because of this stupid dog.   Turns out, though, one of my sane neighbors has a camera and agrees to let the police look at it.  

       I ask if I can see what happened, too, but the policewoman says no, because it’s an open investigation and I wonder if the police, a judge, or and our neighbors will force us to euthanize him.  I just don’t know.