Chapter-6: Midnight Rum
Luz placed his hat on his head, picked up the near dead puppy and cradled him in his palms. He blew a white mist around the tiny pup and placed him on the ground.
“Wait a moment, little boys,” said Luz. He lifted his palm to the hard-working men. “This here puppy pit-bull is my newly recruited hunting hell hound. As per request, he is leading the hunt for me tonight, in this chained up barn.”
Thumb erupted into a confused state of anger. He locked in place with an overabundance of stupidity racing through his mind and body.
Dickory farted and laughed as he looked at the little puppy on the ground. The little shit was no longer than the length of his vomit-brown boots.
Hickory shook uncontrollably, sweating balls and gobs of fear. He stepped away. One look at that man, with the bone white gambler hat, ripped his security into shambles. Looking into those emerald eyes below the white hat, Hickory felt frozen hands all across his heart and testicles. He double skipped backwards and searched for an exit, ignoring his two partners.
Thumb reached Luz and raised his butcher blade. He extended his arm far back and prepared to swing-swing at meaty throat and eyes. He said: “Eat a hell fucked pie, home-bread…”
“You don’t even know,” interrupted Luz with a stern looking face. “Look down, you’re already dead.” He side stepped from the quivering puppy pit-bull and grinned.
A burst of cosmic energy from the pup flooded the barn. Beams of blinding light shot everywhere, extending between the barn boards and into the black night sky. The tavern men cursed and shielded their eyes. Quick to react, they worked on regaining their sight—rubbing and blinking their eyes and cursing up a tirade.
From the ground, the pit-bull puppy stood firm with glowing red eyes. His puppy muscles rippled all over his little body as he stepped to lunge forward.
“Hold a moment,” said Luz. “They’re not ready, my little dog. Delay your attacks. Wait a bit; let these boys see … let them witness a return of their acts.”
The trembling pup barked back in quick pride-hurt yelps. He glared at Luz and wiggled his nose.
“What did you say?” asked Luz. “Not a dog? Hmmm, if you say so; then, how about I call you, my assistant? I’ll refer to you as my assistant. Is that better for you?”
The chestnut brown puppy flexed his little chest up, and he barked once with immense honor.
“It’s settled,” said Luz, “you’re my assistant, not my dog. Oh, you can begin; these trickery mouse-clock boys can see you now.”
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