1. He chases a housefly for three hours. Chases is too light a word. He lusts for the end of this fly. He has no regard for his own well being. He launches himself into the air, forgetting the consequence of ground. He hits the walls with the force of an out of shape jock playing racquetball with his younger brother. He snarls like a starving shark being insulted through the looking glass by plump German children.
2. That one fly is now a horde. Invisible. But no less deadly.
3. The hand towel that fell from the rack in your bathroom. Is safe. A panic room for your dog’s anus. If the seal is proper. And never compromised. Movement. Or, dragging of the dog ass cloth over tiles. And the metal strip that separates rooms. And your crappy floor mattress. Is permitted. If the seal is never compromised.
4. Your dog barks at changes in lighting. His own smell. Cords to electronic things. His language is so crude, that it insults the neighbor dogs. Who insult the neighbor dogs. Until the block is a chorus. Of I’ll bite off your fucking balls if you come one step closer.
5. His pupils grow no smaller than a dime. When in direct shine of the afternoon California sun. Also, his eyes are no larger than a dime. He is a fifteen pound dog.
6. He passes out. Like a starlet three days after finally getting her Oscar. For the courageous portrayal of a toothless sugar heiress. Or the morning after a frathouse graduation bender. In honor of a seven year undergraduate career. For twenty hours. He sleeps the sleep of a hundred uncles, after Thanksgiving dinner at the bottom of the sea.
radical use of words