I walked Comment Dog to the nearest subway. He took the lead; he always does that!
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking,” I asked?
He stared at me, said nothing.
“Yep…” I thought.
“Do your poochie pal’s still play all night poker at ‘Shifty Sal’s?”
Comment Dog nodded.
“Well, let’s see if Bunny Belafonte has jumped out of his hat and made an appearance. If anyone knows where Eddie the Grocer is, Bunny will!”
The subway ride took less than ten minutes. Scum City comes alive after midnight, animals frolicking and running amok while humans sleep.
An attractive transexual donkey gave me the eye; I returned her smile. She was all teeth and ears and was twerking ‘Apeshit’ by the Carters. I interrupted, asked her to sing. She replied, ‘no,’ she was a little hoarse.
Comment Dog howled in laughter; I turned away in disgust. Have you ever had or smelt a Donkeys tail in your face?
I wondered if she was an omen. A sign or a warning of things to come.
We got off at 51st Street.
51st Street was a low brow, low rent end of town. A place where life was cheap and sex cheaper. Just ask the birds who live here and the schmucks who visit here to roost. This place was a zoo, a place where dung beetles lived in luxury and feasted like kings.
Poker Palaces like ‘Shifty Sal’s’ thrived in a place where the cops only visited off duty.
Shifty Sal took one look at Comment Dog and I striding toward his joint and turned his head.
“God damn it, Blogger Man,” I cursed, slapping my head. I knew that donkey was a sign. It was trying to tell me something. Psalm 69:17-19 miraculously crystallised in my mind.
Don’t look the other way; your servant can’t take it.
I’m in trouble. Answer right now!
Come close, God; get me out of here.
Rescue me from this death trap.
You know how they kick me around—
Pin on me the donkey’s ears, the dunce’s cap
Usually, I’m not a big fan of the bible, but ten years of Catechism gave me a real good understanding of cats and other animals.
Shifty Sal was warning us. Something was up, and it wasn’t the price of Asparagus!
“Heel,” I commanded, Comment Dog stopping immediately before whispering and asking me if I wanted a band-aid.
“No, I bloody don’t. Wait,” I added, crouching low, trying to keep out of view. “We don’t want anyone to see us.”
Comment Dog sulked, lying on the ground, covering his eyes and snout with his paws. He farted, trying to get back at me. He always does that.
I said, “you are so immature, don’t be a dick.”
Comment Dog gradually stirred, stretching out, stiffening his body. His head pointed toward the staircase of the warehouse.
It was Bunny Belafonte, bouncing down the stairwell.
“I knew we’d find him,” I whispered, “and he’s had one too many eggs by the look of the state of him.”
“Let’s follow him and see where he’s off to.”
Comment dog scratched himself, obviously wanting to flick a flea in my ear. Some things never change.
- Is this the end of the road for Comment Dog and Blogger Man, or will Comment Dog head out on his own like a cycle path?
- Will Bunny Belafonte take the road out of town, and if so, will he have to give it back?
- Is the biggest cause of road rage crossroads?
- Once he discovers he’s being followed, will Bunny Belafonte be hopping mad?
- Can you make gas from Apsara, and if so, does it smell like wee?
- And most importantly, will Bunny Belafonte lead Blogger Man and Comment Dog to Eddie the Grocer?
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of Blogger Man and Comment Dog.
Roly Andrews - Story Teller 