The way the grandson stood on top of his Hyundai, practicing great booming slam dunks on the newly close basket caused more rage in the dogwalker than he could remember feeling. It was much worse than when the dogs unleashed torrents of yellow shit that puddled while the white dog whined, his fur matted and yellowing at his ass. The kid smiled at him, all gums and lips like his mouth was one big wound and the dogwalker threw the gnarled tennis ball at the grandson’s mouth as hard as he could and started jogging with the bounding mutt. The grandson fell in what would’ve been a beautiful arc, if the dogwalker had stayed to watch him, the green tennis ball bouncing direct up off his smile that issued a wail and some blood until he bounced off the driveway, where he didn’t get up.
Leaving Back
May 4, 2009 · 1 Comment
Categories: Short Stories
Tagged: Andrew J Jepsen, Andrew James Jepsen, Andrew Jepsen, Fast fiction, fiction, Leaving Back
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1 response so far ↓
Turtle // July 1, 2009 at 3:14 am |
>>The grandson fell in what would’ve been a beautiful arc, if the dogwalker had stayed to watch him….<<
So because the dogwalker did not stay, the grandson did not fall in a beautiful arc? Did not fall at all? In other words, if the dogwalker had stayed, then the grandson would have fallen in a beautiful arc. The dogwalker did not stay, therefore….
Or do you really mean to say that because the dogwalker did not stay to watch he (obviously) did not see the grandson fall?