naught

He's staring in the window of the bottom floor, burning ember hanging off the end of his cigarette. 

He knows he shouldn't be here so late at night, but he's here all the same.

He slips around the edge of the building, dark eyes following the shadowed body as it drifts from the kitchen to the living room. The figure holds a bag in his hand as he collapses on the couch and soon a pale blue light washes over the man's fancy glasses as the television clicks to life.

He stubs his cigarette out in the bush, pocketing the butt as he gets close enough to press his nose to the window. 

Paranoia makes his eyes flick over his shoulder at the privacy fence he's checked twelve times, terrified the nosy neighbor will be able to spy Henry engaging in some Very Suspicious Activity.

It's an easy job - get in, do the thing, get out. He's done it a million times before and, if not a million, then at least three.

Henry always had to stop just before That Part. But creeping around this house was hilariously simple, the idiots who lived there didn't close any of their blinds. Henry had spent the better part of his day watching the handsome - 

His prey was easily 6'4' and his dark hair was longer than usual. Dark eyes peered from behind horn-rimmed glasses at some show Henry couldn't see. Judging by the laughter his quarry kept chirping, it was probably a sitcom.

Glancing around, Henry spied a bookcase in the corner, filled with titles he couldn't make out since he'd left his own glasses in the car, knowing they'd only get in the way. A piece of evidence he couldn't bare - no - afford to leave behind. 

A dog snoozed in a kennel in the opposite corner, a short-legged Corgi that didn't move when Dinner entered the room. Hopefully out for the night, Henry didn't have time to try to corral the dog from biting his leg off, though he'd once read that a crated dog could bark as long as she wanted. 

Tension snapped through his body when a loud click was followed by a flood of light. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the neighbors were filing out onto the porch for a jambouree. It was probably just a drunken smoke break but the suddeness of their voices startled Henry into creeping lower around a bush of petunias, inching closer to the house. 

If he didn't act now, they would discover him before he even had a chance.

Henry slinked up the few cutely paved stones to the back door and fumbled around with the lock for a moment. Hearing a satisfying click, he slowly pushed it open, slipping inside. A screened in back porch  gave him cover to spy on the intrusive neighbors who had begun to play music. He glared at them from beside the brick wall, tugging his black ski mask over his face. 

Nervous eyes ticked over to the second door, which would be much easier to enter if his information was correct. He did a quick inventory of the porch (wooden swing, two cushioned deck loungers, an ancient grill, a metal table with a crude mosaic of beer bottle caps, lighters, and an ashtray), found a hanging fern by the door that would fool even the beginner botanist. 

He reached into the pot to produce a key that he clicked into the slot, careful to keep the latch from clicking as he slowly peeked the door open. As he did, the television clicked off in the living room and he heard a rustle as his target rose from the couch. 

"Goodnight, Violet." His deep voice tiptoed into the kitchen as Henry splayed himself against the pantry door, desperately trying to stand still, even as a grey cat greeted him, meowing as it wound through his legs.

Henry tried to shoo the cat away but it continued it's mewling. "Martha? What's wrong, baby?" Henry could hear the footsteps following the voice. Shit! He ducked past the pantry, into the dining room, which was probably the worst way he could've gone because it meant he had to dart past the doorway to do so. If luck was on his side, Marshall wouldn't have rounded the corner of the living room to the kitchen so quickly.

Luck was not his middle name.

Henry waited breathlessly against the wall as the cat followed him. He could hear Marshall pause at the doorway of the kitchen. A pause before the light switch came on. "...Hello?" His voice was low, but it was the tinge of fear that excited Henry the most. Knowing, yet not knowing, that someone was there but he couldn't see him. That he was terrified of what might happen if he didn't get a weapon. That this might be his very last night to be peacefully alone with his thoughts. 

"I...I know you're there."

Henry bit his lip, hand sliding down. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I...I'll call the police! I know -"

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

Henry slipped easily around the corner, leveling a Ruger into the face of the dark-haired giant. Marshall's hands went up immediately, eyes widening at the shorter figure, clad in all black, wielding a gun in his face. They locked eyes and Henry felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"T-The money's in the safe. I can t-take you to it. Just p-please don't shoot me!"

Henry snorted. "What, so you can pull a gun out and shoot me first? Not a chance." He jerked the gun over Marshall's shoulder. "Turn around and walk."

Marshall started lowering his hands. "I didn't tell you to put your hands down. Now, move." 

With a prod in between his shoulder blades (so muscular!) Marshall began to move on shaky legs through the living room. Henry cast a weary eye down at Violet the Corgi and she continued to snooze on as they shuffled past her. "Damn, that dog can really sleep."

Marshall, who was walking much too slow, commented. "I gave her a sedative-"

"Enough with the small talk." Henry jabbed the gun against Marshall's shoulder as they moved down the hallway. He glanced in each room they passed, noticing each room had a different color scheme that molded quite well with the style of the hous-

"W-Where are we going?"

"Where do you think?" Finally, they reached the bedroom at the end of the hall and Henry was pleased to notice it was a king-sized bed, nicely made up for a man in his 20's living alone. He shoved the muscular man into the room and slowly closed the door. Marshall had turned around to face him and his eyes were darting around the room, as if looking for a way out of this sticky situation. 

"W-What are you-"

"Take off your clothes."

Recognition dawned on his face. "P-Please don't do this, I have a husb-"

"Are you deaf? I said take off your clothes!"

Tears popped up in the corners of Marshall's eyes as he began to unbutton his pants. He pulled them down to reveal a beautiful package wrapped up in a holiday themed jockstrap that hung between two hickory smoked ham thighs that were feathered with dark hair. His shirt came next and Henry unconsciously licked his lips as four gleaming silver balls poked out of the mans chest, nipples erect from the cold metal pierced through them.

Finally finished, Marshall stood awkwardly in front of the bed, hands covering his junk as he tried to look everywhere but at his captor. Cheeks flushed red, Henry could tell the man was getting hard, judging by the movements of his hands. 

"You little slut, you like this, don't you?" Henry smirked as he kept the gun trained at Marshall's chest, slowly rubbing himself on of the front of his own pants. "You want to taste my fat cock in your slut mouth?"

Marshall blushed harder, mouth agape. "No! I want to call my husband and then the police so you can go rot in jail!"

Henry took a step closer, pressing the gun up against Marshall's jaw. "I don't think your husband's ever coming home, sweetie." 

Tears threatened Marshall's eyes again. "W-What?"

Henry smirked, unbuttoning his pants. "I had a little run-in with him before I got over here. He was getting out of his shitty little Civic and brought a shitty little flower pot just for you. He even sensed me and looked over his shoulder. I had to duck out of view but when he looked back, I just - "

Marshall's eyed widened. "Tamatoa."

Henry shrugged. "No matter. You're still gonna be a slut for this cock." He pulled his pants down, wetness seeping at the front of his bright blue boxer briefs that clung to a brown camel toe, hidden from view. 

Marshall frowned. "You're...?"

Henry jabbed the gun against his throat. "Suck. My. Cock."

Marshall immediately went to his knees, pulling the boxers down to reveal an engorged clitoris, bigger than a marble. His tongue scraped it once and then he pulled it into his mouth, tongue rolling over the tip as he looked up at Henry, eyes pleading. 

Henry moaned loud, one hand gripping the back of Marshall's as he held the gun against his temple. "Aw fuck, you gotta good mouth. Wasted on that piece of shit husband of your's."

Marshall gasped, pulling back. "You don't know anything about him-"

Henry grabbed him roughly by the hair, jerking him back down. "Shut the fuck up, you cockslut. Make yourself useful and oh-!"

Marshall had snaked a hand up and slipped two fingers in without him knowing it. His hand started to slip on the gun but he steadied it quickly, using the leverage of his other hand to thrust his wet cock deeper into Marshall's mouth, lips grinding against the man's cheeks. The fingers punished him, pressing directly on his softest spot, prodding and poking until Henry felt the gun slip, slip, slipping from his hand.

When it fell to the floor, they both glanced at it and in the second it took for them to lock eyes, Marshall grabbed him by the thighs and threw him onto the bed.

Henry gasped in surprise as he was tossed like a sack of potatoes and tried to scramble off the bed. Marshall was too quick.

"You thought you were so smart, huh?" He asked, using his brute force to press down on Henry's wrists, pinning him to the bed so all he could do was struggled with his ankles. "Who do you think you are, barging in here like you own the place?" He began to leave soft kisses against Henry's neck, from behind the ear down to his neck.

One hand slipped down, found a tiny hole in the direct middle of Henry's black sweater and pulled it with one swift rip. "You don't own me. You're in my house and you'll do as I say." Henry gasped again as Marshall's mouth found his swollen nipple, on a breast that lolligagged to the side, swelling with anticipation as he prepared for the-

"You fucker!" He yelled, unable to stop the giggle as the quick bite was followed by intense suckling and a sloppy tongue. Henry reached up to pull at Marshall's hair, jerking his head back.

"You tramp." He growled, a hand gripping at Henry's throat as the muscular black man began to flounder in his grasp. Marshall used the other hand to sneak underneath Henry's waist and pull him closer to the headboard. Henry had no time to react as Marshall shoved a wrist into a handcuff while the other quickly followed. 

Laying back to admire his handiwork, Henry was pleased to see his partner was...quite aroused. Marshall stared down at the beautiful man in front of him, blessed with the body of a biological woman that was now at his disposal. He tested the waters by gently rubbing a thumb against the warm button that was now poking through his boxers. 

Henry gave a weak sigh as a shiver went down his body and he tried to cross his legs. Marshall smirked and pulled back, reaching for the gun on the ground. "In show business, they say the gun better go off if it's in the first act."

Henry's eyes widen. "You wouldn't."

Marshall grinned, settling himself between his lover's legs. "But I would." He promised, tongue easily parting the folds of Henry's man cave as he dove in like it was a Thanksgiving meal. He tasted lima beans, stuffing, greens, cornbread, ham, turkey. He even tasted the cranberry sauce in the back, in that hard to reach place that had Henry bucking like a bronco. 

Now wetter than frat bro's forgotten cooler, Marshall set to plunging fingers into his lover's pussy, gentle at first and slowly picking up speed. Henry's toes curled as he was plundered, an orgasm shuddering it's way to fruition as he prepared for the wave to wash over him.

Just as he was about to reach the top, he felt the cool steel slide in, strange and heavy as it slipped inside. He gasped and shuddered, clenching as the orgasm rocked his whole body, eyes rolling back as he rode with his hips, sweat trickling between his chest as he shook his head. 

Marshall was watching in fascination, his other hand now down to rub himself as he watched the love of his life reach satisfation. Though, if history served him right, they had much much more to go. He was really getting into it now, biting his lip as he jerked, watching fluid squirting around the gun to make a splash radius on the bed. 

"Oh, fuck me, Marshy." Henry whispered, eyes lidded with arousal. 

Marshall's eyes flashed and he'd unhooked the handcuffs from the bed, flipping Henry over so he was propped up on the pillows. He replaced the gun with his cock in one fluid motion, plunging deep into the warmest, wettest cushion he could ever imagine. He began hammering away and was satisfied with this just like this forever when he saw Henry reaching a hand back to play with the other hole that loomed there, taunting him.

Well, that just wouldn't do. 

 Marshall quickly found the wet gun laying underneath them and with some gentle (read: not gentle) prodding, the gun had found Henry's other hole and he was mercileslly fucking his lover like his life depended on it. "Yeah, you like that?" He grunted, alternating the rhythms on his cock and his gun.

"Fuck!" Was the only thing he heard breathlessly tossed back at him as Henry through his body into the movements. 

"Yeah, who's my good little slut?"

"Me! Me! Oh, fuck me!" 

"Oh, I haven't even begun...."

His voice trailed off as Henry felt the sudden emptiness of his ass and looked back with confusion but found the rhythm again as the cold steel found him anyway, joining the love of his life in the same place!

"Oh my fuck!" Henry cried at the new development, something they'd never tried before and felt the world crash around him as his mind went complete tabula rasa while Marshall grunted and roared in the same breath, warmth filling Henry from deep inside his gut as Henry collapsed on top of him.

After a few moments like this, they both continued to catch their breath. Marshall slowly pulled the two weapons out and fell on the bed next to Henry. The smaller man smiled and rolled a leg up on Marshall's leg, who instinctively placed his hand on his thigh. They lay like this for another few minutes, both breathing heavily. Henry finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe you safeworded when I was describing my fictional death."

"What?! It made me super sad and took me out of the mood!"

"Oh, so you do care?"

Marshall snorted, rolling his head over. "What have I ever done to you that made you think I didn't care?"

Henry gave a subtle side-eye, grinning. "Well, there was that one time in Raleigh-"

Marshall huffed. "Oh for the last time, I didn't know you were still in there! I thought you had walked to the Target next door so I was gonna surprise you with curbside pickup!"

Henry smirked, snuggling close. "You left me in a Chipotle."

Marshall snorted again, giving him a loud smack on the ass. "I didn't leave you anywhere. And I never will." He gave his ass a squeeze, pressing a kiss to Henry's nose.

Henry felt his dark cheeks flush as he rolled over, sliding his already wettening pussy against Marshall's slow reawakening. "Promise?"

Marshall smiled, rubbing his hands up Henry's thighs to position his hard cock in place, already feeding the tip in. They made continued eye contact as Henry sighed pleasurable and Marshall murmured, "I promise."

oh, gross

Before it became a national catastrophe, “C*r*naVirus” was just a hilarious ploy that scared people into choosing a different Mexican lager to go with their melted white cheese and perfectly salted tortilla chips. An image circulated from a “doctor’s office” that cited the different viruses that plagued every election year, as if to point fingers at a hypochondriacal bipartisanship that somehow blamed the media, politicians, and the public for overhype on diseases that actually proved to kill thousands.

Even now, as I stroll through my elderly parents living room, beelining for the fridge for another locally crafted beer to accompany my introverted introspection on the beauty that is creating new art instead of living in the global terror that news networks purport round the clock, I’m still baffled as to how the numbers of confirmed cases continues to rise even after the Birmingham mayor issued a stay-in-shelter mandate for those who aren’t going to work or buying out toilet paper stock. 

Last I checked, in my lonesome alcoholic stupor between bingeing cringe-worthy Netflix reality shows and reading apocalyptic “non”fiction, the count was at 198, just yesterday. When I drunkenly glanced at the television that bounces between biased news sources and Perry Mason reruns, the count was at 587. In just one day (or more, time is a social construct), people had somehow still managed to contract, spread, and get tested for a virus even when police now have the authority to fine and/or jail you for accidentally brushing against someone you pass on the street.

I should be more concerned for my own health. We should all be more concerned. But there is still a narcissistic optimism that persists amongst the American people: What will I do once this all goes back to normal? How will I afford my overpriced studio apartment in the affluent neighborhood that is affectionately referred to as “The Little Kingdom” so that I may retain my rightful status as a high-functioning member of society while I slave for the tips of millionaires? How will I entertain my children now that they’re out of school for the foreseeable future and I still have to work to put food on the table?

No need to worry: The American government has the perfect solution: money! If we give the people a check with “no strings attached”, they will simply sigh with relief and continue to remain indoors, while still making daily trips to the grocery store for random objects they “forgot” to get, which is really just an excuse to get out of the house. 

In suburbs removed from commercial areas, beautifully deemed “drive til you quality” by economics professors, life has become mundane. Today, every neighbor I’ve ever had the pleasure of giving the “black man nod” to was out in their yard, making painfully casual conversation with other retired black folks they hadn’t spoken to in months, if not years. I got to share cautious smiles with young adults I used to play with as a kid, nodding at our shared agony: returning home.

It hasn’t been all bad, of course. I’ve had the pleasure to create every day, with little interruption save requests for fetching one of the sixteen bottles of bleach from the basement or organizing childhood photos into scrapbooks. Pictures showing a trip to Disney World where my parents took turns hugging me close to them in crowds of white people, strong black hands gripping my once feminine shoulders. Multiple pictures of my first day of Episcopal school, squinting into the sun while each picture I bared my teeth just a little bit harder than the last. Pictures with cousins I’ve long since lost touch with because my mother insisted she had to cut them out of her life and yet still sends boxes of clothes to my cousin’s second child. 

Only now do I reflect on the memories I have created since then. Helping a goat give birth. Breeding and feeding a colony of rats. Supervising 35 dogs in a play group. Lube wrestling at a gay bar. Being the only black kid at a hardcore punk show. Unabashedly flirting with straight white boys. Driving. 

Before, I had finally found my mojo again. I started doing comedy. I planned my first drag show. I was training to finally be a real bartender. I was asking about management openings. I was applying for apartments. I was going on dates.

Now, I’m not so sure.  

p o t e n t i a l

i wish my maze couldn't be solved by you
i wish i could recognize when i'm feeling blue
but hope persists! when you expect the least
i can't help but feel you've prepared the feast
i know you're wary of catching feeling
i know you can't tell this orange is peeling
i won't ask, unless you tell me
i feel so ready to whoop you in melee
light rains lick at swift feet that fly
(i wish my Goddess din't have to cry)
the days grow old as my bones grow weary
i'll never submit to the void of siri
my heart races and soars as i pound the drum
i'm so glad that my brain has gone so numb
physically speaking, i'm quite flexible
i'm more than just a silly collectible
this mental olympics, a beautiful game we play
until the sun sizzles out and the sky goes gray -
hear me, big boy, this is far from over
i like what i see, now that i'm finally sober.

spit spit spit

sipping the savory, salitious, let me indulge
soon all my secrets will begin to divulge
i'll need to produce but first i must write
i may sound obtuse but i know that i'm right
the story must be told, there is no need to run
come, watch it unfold, as i hide from the sun
inspiration strikes when you are least ready
come hold me, you goof, i'm a little unsteady

convincing

solely determined to trickle into triumph
overzealously trying to ascend up past zion
i'm tired, my dude, i can't wait for the end
i need to sink low, allow me to mend.
i cannot fathom what tales you've untold,
when lying to my face and smiling - how bold!
i do not need pleading, we made it last through
right until I decided to stop, for you.
we were an emotional fling, dripping with zest
come back, my king, and i'll show you my best
i promise i can prove i am the best of the best.
i will not follow but i will not lead
i can't help but swallow that toxic wasp seed
it blooms inside, eats away at my blood
forever blessed with the destiny of being misunderstood.
i will have to escape, from this place with dull heart
but when will i know it? when will i start?
my callouses scream out that it's time to sleep
and my dead, dull eyes are begging to weep.
i must walk the line with johnny or choose to feel bereft
don't you want to take a peek at what i have left?

b o w s e r

i think i'll admit to causing my own mess -
i thought i had guidance, i thought i was blessed.
i've barely decided to see you undressed,
i'll simply subside and remain unstressed.
keep me updated for the weekend has passed,
i'm unfumigated but my lungs have collapsed.
i've anxiously arrived at an answer, alert
i've convulsed and contrived a coup to convert.
Leave your woes at the door, just shut up and work
but there's meaning in more than monetary worth.
i've been struck down, my love, i'm allowing the pain
to bathe me in blood and scream out my name.
i've arrived at your door, broken and battered
uncovered, uncapped, untopped, and unscattered.
maybe i just need to tend to my field
so that my dumb crops will have some kind of yield.
i'll post my success and joke on my flaws,
if only you'd recognize that i have my own claws!
i'm ready to strike,  posed for a wordy attack
cause i've worked far too long to give up the slack.
pull the rope tight! but don't make it a noose
i'm everything to cain and nothing to lose
they cry out 'move on! there's more than this love!'
but what if my hand still needs a glove?
not two, just one, to symbolize imbalance
to cool off my hand when i hold your warm chalice.
wait for me, darling, i promise i'm coming
i'm not done with this race - i've just started running.

m o n o g a m y

grumbling, groggy, and giggling with the gaggle
i've somehow slipped off that swollen saddle
i can't believe i just let you go
everyone screams that it's more room to grow
flopping forth with a fifth, don't fumble my name
sloppier than the sith, i will rise to fame
true power collides in an endless cacophony
but you'll get nowhere following redirected misogyny
i know that i'm queer! i've embraced that sly beauty
but my efforts get dredged in self-sabotaging mutiny
i'm barking for freedom, tired of this chain
tied up in this small yard, what more can i gain?
you say to keep saving, just keep my head down
so why is my brain always pulsing with sound?
i'm constricted, confined, trapped in the past
days passing too quick cuz they're too dull to last
i'm fading, young goddess, when basic needs have been met
complacency leaves these dead eyes too wet
i'm choking and coughing, begging for a breath of fresh air
(i thought it might help to color my hair)
the need to create has become a compulsion
but living by their rules has created repulsion.
i need more space for my hierarchy of needs
i've picked up the pace and bought all my seeds
now i'm just waiting for some sign above
to stumble toward the future, to find my true love.

baa

i can't help digging but i've dug a lil too deep
i can't even tell which secrets to keep
i barely have time to hear your dull weep
i'm so tired of scrubbing guilty white feet
i'm ready to show you, so please take a seat
( i'm so fucking tired of beating my meat )
you thought i'd expand from this kind of bleat
but you should invest in this big ole black sheep

april dour

seriously conceptualize what could contour to contusions
realize reality will wander, waywardly into reckless intrusions
i'm manicly miffed at what measly men have to say
i'm supernaturally stiffed by my brash dumbass bray
i've corrected a comping of contour kings
i've barely just managed to silence my schemes
i wish i could waddle back into your pond
i wish i couldn't sink for whoever i'm fond
i've slipped around on the ice for a little too long
i gotta find Thumper, cause this feels all wrong
maybe Flower will court me, mumble out my name
i'll be the king of your forest, just as long as you're game.

emotional masochist

i've finessed myself into a corner
i cannot help but yearn some type of scorner
degrade me, daddy, make me a mourner
my self-respect yeeted by a coroner
i know i should feel more balanced
but i feel kinda soother in sanguid silence
if i careen into the whispering abyss
at least give me a lingering kiss?
unknownst to you, i would be remis
if i don't feel just little bit dismissed
rigormortis sets in, the end is nigh
i can't help but lean on that scornful sigh

jan 13

i've been doing research online. i find a job that i absolutely want, not because it's as a dishwasher but because of the facility/things i find on the website that indicates what happens there. i have never been there, nor do i remember those specific things that interest me about the job.

i am with people (two?), someone who drives us and someone who're we're dropping off. the drive is for an hour and conversation is slightly strained. we're dropping a friend off for their first day at this new job.

boss man #1 is slightly shifty, reminds me of  he talks very fast - too fast. he has a plan for the extra people (me & driver), without telling us about said plan.

i am casually interested in what's happening there, and even start feeling like i should be working there too. he's talking me into it. i finally say 'oh i have a job intervie-" "oh yeah? you need to work here?" "no, i'm just-"" "what is it? i've got a job for you right here, as this- "NO, i have an interview somewhere else."

he can tell he's losing me. he tries again, as i'm looking at where my actual interview is at. i'm googling the place. i know the interview is supposed to be at 330 (we left with just enough time) so when i look down to see it's 3:32, i'm suddenly reminded about what time the interview is at. he finally lets us leave.

GPS says the place is five minutes away but the actual distance is so far that i wonder if we'll get there that quick. it says 5 minute walk but we're in a weird countryside that is way more than a 5 minute walk. we ride scooters (future type, silent, kind of hovering) on an almost overgrown sidewalk that soon morphs into some parkour shit.

the trek has more obstacles, until finally reaching  a huge red metal fence jutting out of the ground, in the middle of a flight of stairs that lead down. we have to keep jumping over the fence, with the drop getting longer and longer and i do so with ease, though i was complaining a lot about not being able to walk that fast and not trusting the scooter.

we finally get there and i meet boss man #2 and his assistant. there are genetically engineered dogs, h u g e german shepherds in cages and i start looking around. there's a screen in the front lobby, showing a commercial for what they do there.

since i've forgotten what place i'm applying for, i stop to watch the video. the video shows computer generated people (anime style) working in an office before the screen changes and shows them flying and changing shapes into superhumans (?).

i start looking around the facility. the dogs are quiet, and in cages, so i want to see what else is there. there are more screens spread out, but i don't see anymore cages. the screens show creatures that have been created. i see regular animals that have been crossed with super animal breeding results. i see a screen that shows tiny green & red animals, the offspring of impossibear and a regular tiny bear. called the bear menagerie or something.

i return to the dog room and start to get the lowdown from boss #2. while we're talking, we're standing in the doorway of the dog room but i'm standing so i'm the only one looking in the room. boss 2 and assistant are explaining things with vigor. i am very interested - MY HAIR IS BEAUTIFULLY TEAL (i remember this vividly from the walk over) - but i am becoming distracted.

while talking, i see a man (shiny glasses so you can't really see his eyes, longish strawberry blone hair, rain jacket) come in the dog room and start looking around. i'm the only one who can see him because the angle that i'm standing in the doorway. boss 2 is still explaining but my attention is on the guy who's wandering around.

he's pretending to leave the room and starts growling at one of the dogs. the dog looks at him curiously but doesn't move. they're all just standing in their huge cages, none are laying down. his girlfriend (?) is there but she adds nothing to the scene. i think it's strange for him to growl at the dogs and he gets closer to the cage.

the dog is watching him, but not moving. boss 2 is talking about how they've tirelessly engineered the dogs to show absolutely no aggression because of how big they are. as he says this, the dogs ears go back. the guy is in the dog's face now, he shakes the cage and starts pulling it out, growling the whole time.

"HEY NOW, i think that's QUITE enough." i raise my voice, new boss forgotten, as i approach the dude. the dog has begun growling now. boss 2 snaps to attention and comes into the room fully now. the guy looks amused with himself. i get in the guy's face and start talking shit. he says he used to work here and i think boss 2 will back me up as skinny dude gets in my face.

he shoves me and i smirk. 'oh, i won't get in trouble but you're on camera for pushing me first, buddy." i'm holding back my anger but i want to punch this dude in the mouth so bad. while we argue, boss 2 and assistant have pulled dog out of the cage and are trying to get it to stop growling.

guy shoves me again. boss man is in tears are he tries to get the dog to relax. dog is standing in place, his eyes won't leave the dude and his lip is pulled back over his teeth as he won't stop growling. boss man is crying now, trying to push the lip back down on the dog's mouth but the dog won't stop growling. boss man is trying to soothe the dog, whispering things. the dog won't stop growling.

i wake.