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Sunday, November 11

Awfully Familiar Update

"He's going to make you a fagger," said Jacko.

"Excuse me?"

Jacko's huge, ugly head bobbed. "Yep, a fagger. Thieves who break into homes through windows and unlock doors."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" I looked at my paws. "It's not like I can turn the latch."

"Don't need to. Just find the key."

"Oh." I glanced at the door, shadowed in the darkness where Black had disappeared. "And what if I don't?"

The hound looked at me with his one good guy. "You will. You're a survivor, like me."

"So," I squeaked, "you're not going to eat me?"

Jacko's head jerked backwards in disgust. "You? I'm no rat-eater! I kill rats because I have to. Because I…" he lowered his head. "I don't even remember why I do it anymore."

"Survival," I said.

Jacko padded back over to the fireplace and lay down, his back to me.

Feeling a little bold and having nothing left to lose, I asked, "When did you get tired of your job?"

"When I lost my eye," came Jacko's unhesitating response.

"It must be tough. But you have to consider that the odds are pretty good that if you kill enough rats, one of them was going to get to you eventually…"

Jacko lifted his head, just enough to spare a glance at the gaping doorway that had swallowed black. "I didn't lose it to a rat."


posted by Michael Tresca at 9:57 PM

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