Dog Days
““Relax, Paul. That’s just paint or something. Come on. I’ll show you.”
“No,” Paul said, shaking his head. He moved behind Larry.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Larry told him. He stepped into the alley, then froze as the dog bared its teeth, hunched down, and growled.
That’s strange, Larry thought as he slowly backed away. Dogs like me. “Hi, boy,” he said. “Nice dog.”
The dog kept growling. “I guess we’re not getting any closer,” Larry said. “But you can see from here—it’s j...ust paint.” He searched the alley for evidence, an empty paint can or a brush or something. But nothing like that was in sight. The bookstore wall was blank except for the red splotch. The building didn’t even have a window. A door at the side of the diner was closed. Three garbage cans stood next to the door. Two were round. The third one was the big, blue, square kind the town had started giving people for recycling.MoreLess
“No,” Paul said, shaking his head. He moved behind Larry.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Larry told him. He stepped into the alley, then froze as the dog bared its teeth, hunched down, and growled.
That’s strange, Larry thought as he slowly backed away. Dogs like me. “Hi, boy,” he said. “Nice dog.”
The dog kept growling. “I guess we’re not getting any closer,” Larry said. “But you can see from here—it’s j...ust paint.” He searched the alley for evidence, an empty paint can or a brush or something. But nothing like that was in sight. The bookstore wall was blank except for the red splotch. The building didn’t even have a window. A door at the side of the diner was closed. Three garbage cans stood next to the door. Two were round. The third one was the big, blue, square kind the town had started giving people for recycling.MoreLess
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