Faster faster faster. Muarice was facially fucked. Outside his Grandparents house on their ranch a dog wandered up from the main gate that leads to the cow pastures and ambled coyly about the driveway Maurice tied his shoes on the bench just outside the sunporch on the left side of the house. The dog was covered in a thick layer of his own oil and had been lost for some time, but Maurice was too far away to notice when he called the dog over. He resumed tying his shoe as the dog sauntered towards the bench. He was staring at his mud-caked sneakers delicately finishing the final knot on his right sneaker and he could hear the click of the dogs long nails on the pavement as it neared him. He stood up and grabbed the bottle of bug spray resting on the window ledge behind him and began casually putting it on his arms, watching the greasy, grey haired old dog sniff the potted plants near the door that lead into the sun porch. As the boy innocently reached down and lifted up his thick white socks to spray his ankles in a mist of chemicals redolent of the mid-west, he noticed the dog tearing into the plant nearest to him. He had already sensed that it was a mistake to call the venturesome mutt over to him initially and now he wished the dog would go away. He could hear the clamor of his family, who had now finished up their breakfast and were preparing to come outside. He quietly asked the dog to leave and pointed up the road, he feared that if he was caught near the dog he would be asked to fix the flowers, for which he didn’t feel responsible. Gesturing didn’t work, so he bent down to shove the dog away. Maurice had his hands on the dog’s rear-end and was steering it away from the plants, gazing backwards towards the door for the incipient arrival of his family. He turned his head forward and met with the dogs teeth. The dog quickly turned to nip, like nippy dogs do, and went for the nearest bit of skin, which was the boys face. One of his upper canines were lodged inside Maurice’s right eye socket and as he leapt backwards a sizeable portion from the right side of Maurice’s face was left in the dog’s mouth. The beast lunged again. Maybe it had a taste for tender boy flesh, as so many do; or maybe Maurice still appeared threatening, gesticulating wildly and screaming his head off; or maybe it had caught rabies from the Racoon it had cornered the night before. For the face again, it got hold of his nose and gave him a butcher’s rhinoplasty. Emmet, his father, kicks the dog across the face. Im dead youre dead we are all dead. Emmet is probably a rapist himself. Not only does he hate his own son, but he hates it all. He hates you and me. Im not really affected by it, because most things don’t affect me. Im in a wheelchair and I can barely breathe on my own. No one cares, so why should I? Maurice is my friend. I don’t mind that he spits on me when he talks emphatically. I don’t mind much. Maurice showed me his penis once, he layed it on the table as we ate, like a limp zuchinni. It was huge. If I could get erect, I would have been so. He expresses his menial desires to rape someone, and does so without a speck of spit. He wants to, badly.