The Book of Jake by Steve Lerner

Author:Steve Lerner [Lerner, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Comedy Crime
Publisher: Hekate Publishing
Published: 2019-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

The coconspirators’ backyard, as you may have guessed, looks like a monsoon has just swept through. Pieces of rotting furniture, scraps of ancient litter and empty beer bottles lay scattered among weeds. A twisted hammock is suspended at one end by the trunk of a gnarled tree, its other end on the ground perhaps in anticipation of a sapling that has yet to sprout. There is a wooden fence at the back of the yard. I hoist myself over into a neighbor’s yard.

I contemplate my options. Should I return to my car? Or will Boyfriend and Screwdriver quickly discover my absence and arrive ahead of me? It’s too risky, so I hop another fence into another yard. I hear growling.

The Rottweiler is an intimidating animal, and two of them are four times as intimidating as one. It’s exponential. I turn, and find myself face to faces with two Rottweilers. I know a little about vicious animals, though. The most important thing is to not show fear. I begin acting like I’m in my own backyard with Rottweilers whom I saved, when they were cute little puppies, from a kill shelter. The Rottweilers aren’t buying it. They keep growling, baring their teeth, that whole thing.

“How you doing?” I say cheerfully, as if they are no more imposing than mewing kittens. But these Rottweilers are not stupid; a little attitude is not going to throw them. “Want to hear a joke?” I say. “My girlfriend is a Siamese twin. And I’m seeing her sister on the side. Whoa! Hey!” I throw my head back and chortle. The growling stops and they watch me with diminished primal hatred. “Did you hear about the sixteenth century explorer who got eaten by cannibals?” I ask. “Talk about being consumed by your work. Whoa! Hey!”

One of the Rottweilers looks at the other one like: this guy’s pathetic, I can’t attack him.

Their interest in me is waning. I chuckle lightheartedly and stroll to the rear fence. I figure I have about four seconds before they realize that, yes, he is pathetic, and mildly amusing, but what is he doing in master’s backyard? I leap up, plant my palms on the fence top, and hoist myself over into the next yard.

I follow a narrow pathway that runs along the side of this house, ducking under windows, then pass through a wooden gate that leads to the driveway in the front. There, I linger with palpable calm, untying then retying my shoelaces, so that if anyone happens to be watching I won’t look like a sneak. I have no idea where I am, but I do have all my fingers and toes, and that’s plenty to be happy about. We rarely know how good we have it. When something bad happens, we think how happy we would have been at that very moment if it hadn’t happened. Which is bullshit. If it hadn’t happened, we’d be griping about something else. Too often, we are petty and pessimistic. It’s a cliché, but we rarely appreciate what we have until it’s gone.

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