Dan was putting the finishing touches on the first dog the world’s seen in decades. Well, that isn’t exactly true. There are tons of robotic puppies just like the real ones. But those were too expensive for Dan. Too expensive for about 78% of working-class Americans.
He was putting the finishing touches on the first “home-grown” puppy in years. The last remnants of his smoothie went down with a loud slurp, and he dropped the cup in the wastebasket as he passed it. Then, he took one last dart and punctured Bob Barker’s chin with a deft toss before picking up the spool of black thread.
See, this was all his fault: Bob’s. All those sign-offs at the end of The Price Is Right finally reaped their malicious fruits. No more pocketbook pups for celebrities to carry around like a shedding accessory. No more waking up to a trash-littered kitchen floor. No more nuzzling, barking, slobbering, or soggy jowls. Cats, of course, found a way out of their extinction – somehow.
Dan wanted a puppy so badly. He only knew dogs to be decrepit things. As an infant, his family’s pet was a shaking bag of fur that took up space in the corner – a browned tennis ball always at paws length.
Back in his workroom, he placed the tape recorder atop the gutted RC car and pushed play. Dan’s muffled and ignorant attempt at barking began stumbling out of the tiny holes. It sounded more like a dying bear, because he never actually heard a puppy’s yip before.
Then, he took the old fur scarves his mother put cigarette burns into and stitched them on to the cobbled-together skeleton. Useless pennies were the eyes, and he glued a cut, red tie around where a mouth would be for the tongue.
When he was satisfied, Dan carried the growling hodgepodge to his front yard where he set up his lawn chair. He smiled against the setting sun and plopped down. The mass he placed on the ground resembled more a beaver with broken arms.
Nevertheless, Dan was pensive as he said, “Barker.” He chuckled as he tied a rubber band around the throttle of the remote and watched his puppy saunter playfully in the grass. “Ironic.”
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author bio:
David G. Walker is a husband, father, and teacher. He holds an MFA in Poetry from Southern Connecticut State University and his work most recently appears in PANK, Philosophical Idiot, The Rise Up Review, Thistle, Poetry Breakfast, After the Pause, and Poets Reading the News. He is also the founding editor for Golden Walkman Magazine and is the author of three poetry chapbooks.