Bullet Head Page #7

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Jesus.

Nobody wins.

WALKER:

Jesus f***, this was last night.

Christ, how long

until sundown?

STACY:

Call our ride in 50,

then get out that fire escape.

Yeah, well,

what say you, kid?

Hmm?

Are you a cat person,

or are you more of a dog person?

Dogs.

I used to love them books

when I was little

where they got them

acting like people.

You know, driving around

in cars,

and making deposits

at the bank,

and buying ice cream cones

and all that.

Dad kept on having to whup my

ass for trying to talk to them.

To dogs?

Yeah. I'd see them

tied up outside the store,

and I'd ask where they parked

their trucks.

[chuckles]

I always wanted one,

but Pops said he could hardly

keep us fed.

So I had chickens

and stuff.

You a farm boy?

No, just-- Just country.

A few egg hens,

a busted-ass old milk cow.

I found this one dog by the side

of the road when I was 6.

It couldn't have been

more than a couple years old.

He-- He must've got hit

by a car or something.

His leg was busted up

real bad.

He was a-- He was a shepherd,

I think.

[whimpers]

I knew my pop wouldn't

let me keep him.

The dog catcher

would just put him down.

So I hauled his poor ass all

the way back to this old shack

we had out

behind our house.

And Dad was drinking

so much by then

I knew the toolshed's

the last place he'd be.

But this little dog was crying

so loud from the pain

that first day,

I was sure he'd hear

no matter how loaded he was.

I stayed in there

all night,

petting him and begging him

to be quiet

till he finally

calmed down.

Started bringing my lunches

home from school.

At first all he wanted

was that cheese you peel off.

But a few days in I had him

grubbing on meatballs,

and smiley face tater tots,

and chicken nuggets,

and all that,

like a regular schoolboy.

Had to clean the sh*t

off his fur every day,

because his leg was still

too f***ed to stand up.

But I didn't mind.

Nobody'd ever been that happy

to see me my whole life

as when I walked

in that room.

Tail wagging so hard

against the ground

he's kicking up dust

all over himself.

[door chime dings]

I'd hide food under my bed

to save up for the weekends,

you know,

but it was June already.

Pretty soon school was done.

I busted open my piggy bank,

sold some baseball cards

I had from Christmas

and bought him some food,

but I ran out after a week.

Had to swear I wouldn't come

back to the only store in town

after I got caught

racking Alpo

to convince them

not to tell my pop.

Only one place

left to go for food.

I was having nightmares

just thinking about it.

But the look on that dog's face

after a couple days,

it was like not eating

wasn't the worst of it for him.

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