My Own Sandwich

‘Hey! Throw me some of that.’ “WOOF”. ‘Don’t look out the window, you goober. I’m right here.’ “Rrrr Rrrr WOOF” ‘Some of that sandwich, that’s what I want.’ “Rrrrruff-Ruff.” “What is it Henry? What do you hear out side boy?” Stephen said looking out the kitchen window again. ‘It’s not my hearing that’s making my mouth drool, you dope. It’s my nose and that giant meat loaf sandwich your mom made you. It’s making my stomach wish you’d stumble over those huge feet of yours, causing you to drop that thing on the floor.’ “Rrrru rrru, howlll.” ‘Please!’ Jarred took a blind bite of his sandwich while looking out the window this time. “I don’t see anyone out there boy.” He said chewing and talking. “Do you want out? You gotta go boy?” Stephen said opening the kitchens screen door. Instinctively I headed toward the door, but then my nose took over again. I pulled a U-turn and came right back to the middle of the kitchen and sat down.

‘NOW, who’s a hungry dog gotta bite to get a little nubbins of one of those sandwiches? Huh? Who? Cause my stomach is telling my teeth to latch onto something.’ “RrrrR Rrrrr RrrrrR Woof Woof” They just stood there taking bite after delectable bite. Looking at me like I was Mrs. Lawson’s cat Pickles, stupid and almost hairless. (Long Story) “Here boy.” Stephen said. Finally! ‘It’s about time guys.’ “Hhh-uh hh.” I turned toward Stephen to see his foot gently push my water dish in my direction. “THAT’S IT! I GET A BITE OF SANDWICH NOW OR I AM GOING FOR THE CLOSETS ANKLE TO ME.” So who’s it gonna be? You?!? The one with the booger at the tip of your nose getting crustier by the minute. Or you? The one who’s shoes smell like you walked through Pickles litter box. You can choose if you like. Just don’t take longer than a nanosecond. “GO!” ‘WOOF UHHH WO-OOF.’ Let’s have it boys. Who’s ankle is about to be 7 oz lighter. Not that your skinny lil legs can afford the loss. I glanced back and forth between the two of them. My animal instincts just going wild. I licked my chops, I licked my nose, (Hey, it’ not as bad as one might think.) I lick my chops again. “Com’on. Who’s getting bit…………..PLOP! PLOP! They both toss a piece of sandwich my way. But my mind was consumed already. It didn’t register. ‘FOOD. I smell food’ “RrrRrruff” I smell mouth watering like a running faucet food. But why is it I still want to bite one of these mental game playing, sandwich hoggin’, goobers? Have they pushed me over the edge? Have I lost my cognitive collaborating craving for meat-loaf because of the long endured torture. WHERE IS THE FOOD!?! Will there be desert? Was Mrs. Lawsons cat going to be walking the fence today? Sandwich…Floor…Water bowl…Ankels…Floor on the sandwich…Milk on the counter. My mind swirled for what seemed like the eternity of a Flea Dipping Bath. Sandwich ON THE FLOOR. Whoo hoo.

I glanced up at the boys again, and then down toward the “Waiting for my tongue and teeth” sandwich bits, that had mysteriously vanished. “Grrrr BARK” I shouted. “MY SANDWICH?!?!? It’s GONE! WHERE’S MY SANDWICH?!?!? Then… “Mercy me boys. If Henry doesn’t want it, don’t just leave it on the floor. Throw it away…away…away…away.” Mrs. Meyers words echoed softly as she picked up the sandwich bit with a paper towel and tossed them into the garbage disposal. She flipped up the water handle, counted out 3 seconds aloud, and then flipped up the electrical power to the evil machine under the sink. (I was sleeping under there one day when she fed that thing the last bits of a head of cabbage. Nearly scared me out of my fur.) brrrrrrrrrrflupfluprrrrrrrrrrr. My bits of sandwich…gone. How could she? How long was I day dreaming? What makes that woman think for even one second, that I didn’t want those down right scrumptious morsels of meat-loaf? Has she gone mad? Did that stupid cat Pickles hypnotize her into thinking that I didn’t even exist? Did some rabid squirrel bite her in the vegetable garden earlier, and thus cause her to suffer Dain Bramage? “RrrrrRRrrrrRRRr.” SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL MY WHY!!! WHY I AM NOT EATING OME MEAT LOAF SANDWICHES RIGHT NOW?!? PLEASE?

The boys just shrugged their boney lil shoulders, turned, and walked out the kitchen door. This was their fault. They teased me for so long, I lost track of reality. I lost the opportunity of a life time. Well maybe not a “life time” but an opportunity none-the-less. I wanted those pieces of sandwich, which have now been pureed and washed down the drain. I wanted to taste and savor that sweet home made bar-b-q sauce that was giving my nose such an overdose, my tongue will be drooling for hours.

Bite. Bite. BITe. BITE!!! I NEED SOMEONE TO BLAME AND THEREFORE BITE. Who do I bite? I have but only two seconds before the kitchen door closes and those rotten sandwich teasing boys are out of reach, and then Mrs. Meyers will assume I want to stay home and lead me toward the basement so she can clean upstairs. Do I bite her? After all she did annihilate My portions. But, wait, no. She’d never let me in the house again and she feeds me tastier things than Stephen and Jarred do. Then who, my mind raced? Who do I bi…….I jumped into action. The boys were nearing the sidewalk when I … ‘Rrrrrufff’ Chomp…“ooww” Jarred squealed like a girl….Nip bite….“ouch, Henry.” Stephen whined. Take that, you conniving two legged, fur-less punks. I caught the frayed edge of Stephens hand-me-down denim cut-offs and down they went revealing his tattered FOTL’s. And though Jarred’s camo-shorts were slightly tighter, they came down too, showing off his tighty-whities to Mrs. Lawson as she was driving by heading home. But as I would have hoped that they would have been scrambling like flea’s on a dog heading for the giant tub of water, they just stood there laughing at one another and waved to passer-by.

Henry the dog.

Please Read editors note above in the About Ray section first.

"I feel nothing…. "

I feel nothing, place nor pain.
Numb’s where I exist.
Empty, hollow shell in wane,
sinks in mental mist.
To and from, appearance vague
for direction of each thought.
Comprehension is simply plagued,
by more than can be fought.
No will to fight, subdued am I
my knowledge, a sleeping joke.
Breath deeply drawn, exhale and sigh,
once more, alone I woke.
Felt the day, in part and piece,
time stared back at me.
It also laughed, but then ceased,
the joke it could not see.
Fleeting smile, from one thought,
I swiftly sought its source.
My speed too slow, smile now forgot,
no point for its remorse.
A tear began, but then was gone
To what would it apply?
Emotions rain was wasted on
ones hollow selfish cry.
The puzzle piece entitled "Me",
is grossly shaped and torn.
Picture complete, cannot be.
Thinks sadly it was born.
No real desire for the end,
I feel no love or hate.
No goodbye note do I send
The final sleep can wait.
Reality Slaps, sarcasm screams,
they’re felt and heard and real.
I do not run, and so it seems,
I care not for appeal.
Wish all would end, in delight,
for mind and soul and heart.
For now debate a willful plight,
for camaraderie to start.
And be it that which can erase,
the hollow shell in wane.
So Time can see the joke in place,
my “End” can grow in vane.

Ray W. © 01-15-08