Savage Tales

Othello's cheek lustily.
    "Perhaps," said Othello. "We'll get him to an animal hospital. We'll pay them money. We'll pray to God."
    "O-okay," said Cracker.
    "You were the real wild card in this," said Othello to Cleo. "You're beautiful and sexy, and women like that usually can't be trusted."
    "What can I say?" said Cleo. "You treat me better than Shank ever did."
    "Speaking of Shank, he's still in the car trunk. We better get him to the cops."
    "But first the dog hospital," said Cleo.
    "Oh, right," said Othello. He rubbed Cracker's shoulder. Cold. "Wait – never mind. He's dead."
    Othello made the sign of the cross and closed the dog's eyes.
    "Don't cry," said Cleo.
    "We've had so many adventures together. And I thought he would pull through."
    "You were the one who shot him."
    "I thought it would be smart and meaningful. I thought he would survive and we would laugh about it when we were old. I'm just a young man, but sometimes I get confused. It's these pills I'm on."
    "You need them."
    "That's what my doctor tells me."
    "Maybe you should change doctors."
    "How can I know? Like I said, I'm confused."
    Cleo patted his head and yawned. "I don't think I'm attracted to you anymore."
    "Wh..."
    After she had left, Othello pet the dead dog on the ground and cried until he could cry no more.

FIFTEEN SECONDS OF FAME

    Issaqua was home alone. His mother was elsewhere with her boyfriend. Issaqua was watching Adult Swim. It was eleven o'clock.
    Suddenly he heard something that came from somewhere else, not the TV. A faint scratching. A faint, faint rub of fingernails on glass. Some new victory in sound.
    Issaqua turned and looked. At the glass was a ghost-white face, thin and sallow, staring in and reflecting the pale light of the television.
    "Aaaah!" said Issaqua.
    The face frowned and pried at the window. Issaqua continued to scream.
    The glass shattered and bits flew toward Issaqua.
    In came the white man, shirtless, shoeless, wearing only a sky blue pair of sweat pants. "Shut your mouth face," said the man. His gigantic lumbering albino flesh came on. It was a hideous coat hanger hanging over his head, this arched bow of a man.
    The white hook of an arm raised and reached for Issaqua's neck. Now Issaqua would never learn how that TV show ended.
    From the driveway a car sound could be heard. Issaqua and the man heard it in the same instant. The man reached again for Issaqua's neck, but now voice could be heard. People, oppressors of crime.
    The man grunted, looked foully at Issaqua, then lumbered back to the window and crawled through, grunting. "Hurrrrrmm."
    Issaqua sat frozen.
    Finally the front door opened and his mother and a man sauntered in, wobbling on their toes, wavering. Issaqua looked back at the TV screen. His mother barely paid him a glance and didn't seem to notice the shattered glass. Her boyfriend led his mother by the hand to her bedroom. Issaqua licked his lips. They were so dry. He looked at the TV screen. He had missed the show's conclusion in his distraction.

    Issaqua slept on the couch as usual but was colder because of the smashed window. He dreamt fitfully of tall man reaching for his neck and his stifled scream. His voice would not come and the man's hand never quite arrived, which seemed worse than anything. If it had seized him… fine… but to never arrive… there was the horror.
    In the morning he heard his mom's boyfriend go into the kitchen and drink water. The man came to the living room and saw the broken glass. He shook his head and looked at Issaqua, then smiled, and left.
    An hour later when Issaqua was watching the morning cartoons his mother emerged with mussed hair and ratty makeup stains across her cheeks. She looked horrible.
    "What the hell, Iss? What the hell happened here?"
    Issaqua shook his head.
    "Well?"
    He tried to find the words but could only muster one: "Intruder."
    His mother phoned the police.
    They came and interviewed him and then spoke with his mother.
    "Ma'am, we have reason to believe this is the man who has kidnapped, sodomized, and murdered nearly a dozen children in the past three years. This is the first time we have a living witness. Your boy is very lucky. His description matches the grainy footage we have of the man from a security camera. It sure sounds like him. Yes, he's very lucky. I'd get that window fixed."
    A few hours after the police came, a van pulled up in front with the local TV station logo plastered around its exterior. Issaqua and his