Page 7 - The Myth and the Moment

Morning

on the shed. And no more Nate if I try to get in there to the truck.
Why didn’t Hodges tell me what to do? Maybe there’s nothing to be
done; just wait until Monday after the dog is carted off by its handler.
Isn’t there a pay phone around here? Nope, destroyed by the
Visigoths: keep us from sending for reinforcements. So, it’s up to me.
“Nice doggie, nice doggie. See, I’ve got a key to the gate: I work
here, too.”
Grrr-rrr.
Okay. Got the lock open and the chain off. But he’ll go for my
throat if I open the gate. God, those creatures are mean: fangs bared,
slavering. I wonder what they normally eat. Don’t see any dog food
dish. Maybe they starve them to keep them alert and evil. Dollar
fifteen if I’m wrong; same if right. But no overtime otherwise.
“Here, pooch! Take a sniff of that. Now chase it!”
Push the gate. Run. Get in truck. Hope it’s ready to go. Engine
turns over. Engine turns over again—in its grave? No, engine starts.
See dog in rear-view mirror. Ah, wolfing it down; too bad I couldn’t
lace it with some exotic poison. Nasty, Nate; nasty. Out the gate,
turn, and block the exit. Jump out and close the gate. Here he comes!
Why didn’t I get two burritos? Close, damn it! Ahhh. Got it!
Grr-rrr-rr.
“Too bad, my asinine canine friend. You have just been
outsmarted by Homo sapiens—not by much, it is true, and I had to
sacrifice my breakfast to succeed. Next time try guarding the chicken
coop on a full stomach.”
Now, do I have everything? Gas in the tank, brushes and hose, test
kit, chlorine and muriatic acid? Yep, ready for action. Hodges Pool
Service to the rescue! Already hot inside here, better roll down the
window. Glad it’s northwest of here; I forgot my sunglasses. The sun
is bouncing off everything in front of me, though. Fall back on the
primordial squint method; at least I still have my eyelashes. Just go
out Olympic to Doheny, no need to get fancy. The grid will dissolve
once I hit the hills, like some non-Euclidean bubble on the surface of
spacetime. Like the sun itself. Could the Hollywood Hills in fact be
the source of heat and light for all the surrounding flatlands? Why
not? Wealth is concentrated energy, convertible via controlled
emissions of cold cash. Someone up there is transferring a granule of
his mass to me, in return for a few minutes of my energy. I will return

6