A Good Boy, A Smart Boy

A GOOD BOY, A SMART BOY


Dean Gulberry did not live on the busiest street in town. In fact he was able to count two cats and a teenager walking his dog before the truck rolled slowly past his tiny house. Mommy had told him it was okay for him to play outside while she watched her stories, but had given him strict instructions to stay in the yard and to watch for cars, dogs, and strangers in the street. Being one who had just this week begun wearing his Big Boy Underwear full time, he took this admonishment quite literally. It was hard to play with his toys while keeping his eyes on the residential road beyond the front gate, but Dean was a Good Boy, a Smart Boy. Mommy said so. So, as he rolled a Tonka truck full of Star Wars Guys back and forth in the grass, he kept his attention on the road on the other side of the ramshackle fence.

Mr. Mister strolled by first, followed shortly by Mrs. Missus. Mr. Mister gave him a sidelong glance and continued on his way despite Dean's efforts to coax him into the yard. Dean loved the big black cat, but apparently Mr. Mister had things to do. When Mrs. Missus crept into view Dean backed away from the fence and held his breath, hoping she would not notice him. If he had known Mrs. Missus would be following her husband on his sneaking adventures he would never have come to the fence and announced himself in the first place. Mrs. Missus was mean. Mrs. Missus had attached herself to Dean's face when he had tried to pick up one of her kittens last week. He reached up to his face and picked absently at a series of barely formed scabs on his cheek and felt blood trickle from one of them. The dusty wind stung the wound so he stopped picking at it and let out his breath as Mrs. Missus slunk away without even looking.

Just as Dean had decided to go back inside where he could play freely, Stu Pidasso came walking around the corner with his pit bull, Shaithis. Dean loved Shaithis more than he loved Mr. Mister, thought he was really cool. But Dean would never try to coax Shaithis into the yard. Shaithis looked really cool, yes, but he would eat young Mr. Gulberry's ass! Mommy said so. And as much as he hated Mrs. Missus, he hated Stu Pidasso much, much more. As the teenager walked by, head down against the wind, he looked over and noticed Dean watching him warily. He yanked Shaithis to a halt and said, "Sic 'im, boy!" The dog snarled and threw himself at the fence. The fence held. Barely. And Dean was able to keep from shitting in his Big Boy Underwear.

Barely.

Stu Pidasso kicked the dog in the head and pulled him along on their merry way, laughing and giving Dean the bird. That was it, Dean was going back in the house. He grabbed up his Star Wars Guys and began shoving them into his pockets. As he struggled to fit Hammerhead's stupid head into the back pocket of his jeans he heard the unmistakeable sound of his best buddy in the whole world. Dick Fitzwell lived down the street and sometimes took Dean fishing at the lake. Dean wanted Dick to be his Daddy but Mommy said he was just a friend. Dick drove a huge 4X4 Silverado with a loud engine. He gunned the engine when he saw Dean seeing him and blew his horn, waving. Dean waved back, smiling, and bent to pick up his Tonka truck. As he turned to cross the yard to the front porch he noticed a ball of paper bouncing down the road in the same direction Dick had disappeared, the same direction Stu and Shaithis had gone. This seemed weird to Dean because the wind blew the other way! And hard! The crumpled paper stopped for a moment in front of Dean's house, blew the proper direction for just a moment, and then continued bouncing in the wrong direction.

Dean couldn't help himself. He was a Good Boy, a Smart Boy, it was true, but a piece of paper rolling into a strong wind was a mystery that his young mind simply must solve. And after all, his was not the busiest street in town. He would stick to the sidewalk until he was able to catch up, then he would look both ways, twice, catch the ball of paper, and run back home before Mommy knew he was even gone. When he was safely back in his yard he would open the paper to see how it flew.

He ran to the gate, unlatched it, and ran after his mystery.

Halfway up the block he shot past Mrs. Missus as she bathed herself on the sidewalk. He didn't even notice when she hissed and took a swipe at his leg. He was keeping his eye on the ball. When he reached the stop sign at the end of the block he had gained some ground on the ball but needed to stop and look both ways, twice, before crossing the intersection. A Good Boy, a Smart Boy, he did so and then dashed across the street.

Ahead, the ball had just rolled past Stu Pidasso and Shaithis where it stopped. They kept walking, taking no notice of the weird ball of paper that had rolled into the wind. Dean only glanced at the bully and his dog. He was wondering why the ball had stopped and kept his focus on it until he had reached the spot on the sidewalk opposite its position in the street. It did not blow the wrong direction anymore and it did not blow in the right direction either. It only sat there in the street, rolling side to side. He stepped into the street and walked slowly toward the strange ball of paper, as if it might blow away if it sensed him coming.

A horn blared, tires squealed, and a new wind buffeted his face. A Good Boy, a Smart Boy, he had forgotten to look both ways, twice. As the car passed the driver yelled something out the window, moved along, and the ball of paper flew high into the air. Dean caught his breath, scolded himself, and refocused his attention on the ball. It had come back to earth and rolled toward him, a stroke of luck. He reached down to pick it up, unaware of Shaithis bearing down on him.

The car's blaring horn and sqealing tires had startled both boy and dog. Shaithis had turned, Stu had lost his hold on the leash, and the dog was off and running. Further up the street Dick Fitzwell had been taking what looked like a toolbox from the bed of his truck. He too had turned to see what was happening.

Dean never knew what hit him. The mistreated pit bull launched itself at the toddler and latched its bear trap mouth onto his throat.

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By the time Dick Fitzwell reached Dean's corpse, the stupid asshole from down the street had regained control of his dog; his dog whose face was smeared with blood and whose belly contained several large chunks of Dean Gulberry's mangled body. Dick raised his shotgun and blew the dog to Hell. Stu Pidasso dropped the leash and ran.

Dick called 911 and leaned down to take the boy's pulse, knowing it was futile. As he reached for the boy's wrist he noticed something clutched in his hand. He opened Dean's dead fingers and retreived it.

When he saw what was there he looked toward his house and went limp in the knees. He knew he should have cleaned out his truck last week, had told himself so that very day, that day last week that he had spent with this very boy!

The fishing wire entangled in the crumpled up ball of paper eventually led to the bed of Dick Fitzwell's big 4X4 Silverado.