They say the longest distance between two points is a kidnapper and his money.
And when dogs are involved, hell, the trip takes even longer because the fucking mutts have to stop and take a piss on everything.
And when dogs are involved, hell, the trip takes even longer because the fucking mutts have to stop and take a piss on everything.
The Dangers of Dog Stealing by Stanton McCaffery
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“I always thought he would get you into trouble,” my mother
said. She was smoking a cigarette and holding the Pomeranian, who was
surprisingly calm given the circumstances. We were standing next to two graves
I had just finished filling in the field behind the Raritan Center Industrial
Park.
It was Doug’s idea. A year out of high school and neither of
us had jobs. We needed money for pot.
“That Colombian chick I dated sophomore year, Beatrice,” he
said, “she told me that in Colombia, where there’s always all this kidnapping
and shit, that dudes actually take people’s pets for ransom.”
Beatrice was a lot cooler than the chick he was dating at
the time, Stephanie. What a cunt. If it wasn’t for her none of this shit would
have happened.
So the plan wasn’t really ransom. No notes or shit like
that. We’d just take a dog and wait for the signs to go up and then collect the
reward. I knew the house Doug had in mind too. It was this new McMansion built
on the lots of two old houses by the train station. We’d always hear this
little yippy dog behind the fence.
So one night we go out and to our luck the dog is outside.
It runs over to the fence and starts barking. Thank fucking God no one came
out, is what I thought at the time, but now I think maybe things would have
been better if somebody did come out.
Anyway, Doug breaks the bottom of the wooden fence and I grab the dog. The
fucker bit my finger when I tried to cover its mouth to keep it from barking.
At home I tell my mother we found it wondering around in the
middle of the street. She loves the thing, knows what breed it is, feeds it
table scraps.
A month goes by and no signs go up asking about a dog. Doug
and me were sitting and playing my Xbox one day while my mom was at work and
Stephanie came over. Stupid Doug told her how we got the dog.
“You guys are idiots,” she said. “Now you’re gonna be stuck
with this dog you stole. You need to just get jobs like everybody else.”
Doug was being all peaceful and shit, but I told that bitch
she could shut up or get the fuck out of my house. Well, she didn’t like that.
She especially didn’t like that Doug didn’t stick up for her. So she left and
on the way out she said she was gonna go to the house and tell the people we
stole their dog.
I was all worried about that, but Doug said she would just
say crazy shit like that when she was pissed. But a few days later, I knew he
was wrong.
I heard somebody banging on the front door. I told Doug to
go get it, because, you know, it was his idea and all.
I was paying attention to the Xbox and I heard all this
banging and shit. When I looked up I saw this monster in a wife beater pistol-whipping
the shit out of Doug’s face with a .45. I know what kind of gun it was because
my mother’s been crazy about guns and home security ever since my father split.
The gun cocked and I heard a bang. I thought I was dead, but
then the glass shattered on the back door. I looked up and saw my mother
standing there, holding a revolver. Behind me, the guy that killed Doug was on
his back on the floor with a hole in his head and blood pooling around him.
At the field behind the industrial park, before we got in
the car to leave, I asked my mom where she got the idea to bury the bodies out there.
“What do you think happened to your father?” she said.
“What do you think happened to your father?” she said.
