The Atheist's Prayer by Amy R. Biddle

Author:Amy R. Biddle [Biddle, Amy R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78099-583-0
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2014-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Friday

Kevin didn’t know what to think any more. He felt lonely and confused. Everything his mother had ever told him seemed to be crashing down on him, one story at a time. Kevin began to wonder if his mother was—what was it Luna had said about her father? Brainwashed by the church, that was it. How did someone wash their brain?

CHAPTER 15

Of Knowledge

The vet was a small Chinese woman with no trace of an accent. Hank didn’t know how such a short woman could look down at him over her nose, but that’s exactly what she was doing. To make things worse, every time he tried to grab Chuck’s leash, she pulled it away like she was saving the dog from his owner’s ignorance.

Apparently, Chuck Norris needed antibiotics and expensive dog food because his digestive system was screwed up. Probably because his last owner was a neglectful bitch.

Thanks to the neglectful bitch, they were back at the vet’s and this time it wasn’t routine. The dog had started leaving presents around the house. Presents that made Hank glad he didn’t have a carpet. He wasn’t sure which mess was puke and which was shit, but he hoped he’d gotten it right when he collected the stool sample.

“I believe Chuck has been getting into something other than dog food in his spare time,” the vet said.

She kept going and her accusations turned into condescension. One pill, twice a day, twelve hours apart. That’s all Hank needed to know. But she went on for at least fifteen minutes. Hank didn’t like being talked to like a five-year-old. He could count. He wasn’t stupid. He was a responsible dog owner and he took Chuck Norris to the park at least four times a week. He was even considering obedience classes. Chuck Norris yawned. She was even boring the dog.

When she was done lecturing, she handed him back the stool sample like it was something he should save for keep’s sake. Like he would label it “Chuck’s First Stool Sample” and put it in a memory box along with “Chuck’s First Collar” and pictures of the two of them on a sunset promenade.

Hank threw the dog shit into the trashcan, where it belonged. He almost did the same with the bill, but decided against it. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook and fumbled for a pen. Checks were a pain in the ass. The only time Hank ever used one was when he lost his wallet. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave Lizzie’s apartment the other night, he would be paying with a credit card. Hank wondered how long he could stand using a checkbook.

“Don’t leave him alone in the house. If you do, make sure he can’t get into any more trash.”

Here she goes again.

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing the leash away from her. “Come on, buddy,” he said to the dog.

Chuck Norris followed him out the door obediently. The dog looked as insulted as Hank felt. Probably because he’d just gotten a thermometer shoved up his ass.

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