T.U.P. NOTE: For some unknown (to me) reason the book is running late in the Kindle publishing process. Ergo, the free days will be next weekend, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, June 8, 9, 10
Beach Tales, my new collection of short stories, will be published as an ebook on Friday June 1. The entire collection, a number of which first appeared in Tropic, the Miami Herald Sunday magazine, will be free to download in the Kindle store all day Saturday and Sunday June 2 &3.
Meanwhile, here's another free story:
Beach Tales, my new collection of short stories, will be published as an ebook on Friday June 1. The entire collection, a number of which first appeared in Tropic, the Miami Herald Sunday magazine, will be free to download in the Kindle store all day Saturday and Sunday June 2 &3.
Meanwhile, here's another free story:
VAMPIRE PIT BULL
Otto
did not like it that the dog needed walking in the evening. Actually, he did
not like walking his late mother's Welsh terrier at any time. Otto was not fond
of walking. He was less fond of walking at night. The days, even with the
relentless heat and humidity, were better than the nights. He had inherited the
dog with his mother’s condo.
Otto
was sure vampires prowled in South
Beach once darkness fell.
There was no logic to back up his belief.
It was simply one more article of faith in an overwrought world. He was
seriously thinking of selling the apartment and moving. Inertia, however, ruled
Otto.
He
was fat, obese even; roly poly in his shorts and tee shirts and flip flops;
pink arms and legs like humongous overstuffed sausages about to burst their
casings. The dog was not fat. Also unlike the dog, Otto was bald. He buzzed the
stubble over his face and ears and around the back of his head each morning
with an electric shaver. Between the sun burn and the morning buzz, his head
virtually glowed red. Owners and dogs are said to often take on each other's physical
looks. Otto and Snuffy were the proverbial rule-proving exception; though Otto
considered himself a caretaker for the dog, rather than owner.
Otto
considered the cost of a trip to the dog groomer as he toddled along 14th Street toward
the intersection with Washington
Avenue. It had been three months and the dog was
getting bushy except for a patch where he had scratched himself raw from the
heat.
A
vampire and his black pit bull rounded the corner onto 14th Street. The pit bull was not on a
leash. Instantly, it charged and chomped through Snuffy’s abundant wiry fur and
held onto the yelping terrified terrier. Otto's first thought was that the
money for the groomer would now have to be spent on a vet.
The
vampire hurried the few steps to where the dogs were locked together in the
pool of yellow light cast by a street lamp. Otto, not knowing what else to do,
hovered over the two animals, bent slightly at his distended waist line. The
vampire was tall and thin with long stringy black hair to his shoulders,
dressed all in black, skin pale as an envelope. "Please make your dog let
go," said Otto, pleading, terrified.
"Onyx,
let go!" commanded the vampire. He grabbed the pit bull by the scruff of
the neck, forcefully lifting up both dogs. "Onnie, let go! What's the
matter with you?"
Otto
wished he had a gun loaded with silver bullets. He would end this right now,
blast both the dog and its owner. Otto was confusing vampires with werewolves.
Fortunately, for everyone, he was unarmed.
"Don't
worry," said the vampire. "She only has two teeth." He snapped a
leash onto the pit bull's collar, then rapped his knuckles hard on top of her
snout. The pit bull unclamped itself from the smaller dog's neck. Snuffy
collapsed into a furry whimpering puddle as the vampire jerked his snarling
beast by the leash. "Sorry about that," he offered.
Otto
nudged Snuffy gently with a chubby bare toe and said nothing. The vampire
pulled his dog down the street. After a moment, Otto yelled at the vampire's
back half a block away: "That dog should be on a leash at all times!"
The
vampire kept walking and casually waved acknowledgment without turning around.
The next day the vet remarked on the unusual puncture wounds. "The owner
said the dog only has two teeth," Otto explained.
"Two
teeth, two puncture wounds," said the vet. "Guess the guy knew what
he was talking about. Lucky your dog wasn't groomed recently. His fur probably
saved him. As it is, he seems to have lost a fair amount of blood. Give him
these, one pill twice a day, and let him rest as much as he wants. He should be
fine."
Otto
knew he had been right all along: vampires. But there weren't only vampires;
there were vampire dogs now, too. He said nothing and looked glum. The vet
shook his head. "Pit bulls aren't bad by nature. It's usually the owners
who ought to be destroyed." Otto grunted his agreement. The bill,
including shots and antibiotics, was $170.
After
dropping off Snuffy at home, Otto went around the corner to the tattoo shop. As
he made the short trip he asked himself what kind of person would teach a dog
to suck blood? He muttered the answer under his breath as he entered through
the glass front door of the tattoo parlor: “A vampire, that’s what kind.” To
Otto, the tattoo shop crowd during daylight hours looked pretty much equally
strange as the nighttime bunch; but he was still glad the sun was high in the
blue cloudless sky for his visit.
Otto
confronted a profusely pierced and ornately tattooed young man who introduced
himself as Peter. Otto told Peter: "One of your night time regulars has a
black pit bull. Tall guy, pale, long stringy black hair? Dog's named Onyx? His
dog attacked my dog and I want him to pay for the vet bill." Otto held up
the bill. He refrained from using "vampire" to describe either man or
dog. But the word was on the tip of his tongue the whole time.
Otto
was sure that Peter, who said he was the shop's owner, was lying when he
answered: "Nobody fitting that description hangs out here." Otto
could see the lie in the younger man's eyes.
What
Otto did not know was that the man he sought was a tattoo artist of
extraordinary skill who worked only at night, only by appointment, usually
after midnight. He had arrived in South
Beach two weeks before,
his reputation preceding him. His work was becoming legendary in tattoo circles
everywhere. His name was Dario.
Dario
never showed his own tattoos. He always kept his black collars and cuffs
buttoned. There were whispers that anybody who laid eyes on Dario's tattoos
became his sex slave – weird spooky stuff. No question, though; the man was an
artist, a genius. There was no way Peter was giving up Dario to this lard butt.
Otto left the shop knowing none of this, but certain that he'd been lied to.
That
night around eleven Snuffy started whining to go for a walk. "Don't you
know what happened last time? Why can't you hold it until morning?" Otto,
snapping on the leash, asked the dog.
Downstairs,
Otto and Snuffy stepped out and there was Dario walking up the sidewalk, alone,
without his dog. Dario stopped and introduced himself by name and Otto cringed
from the outstretched hand. "Listen, I'm sorry about last night,"
said Dario. "I hear you were at the tattoo shop looking for me
earlier."
Otto
gulped and told the vampire about the $170 vet bill. Dario nodded solemnly at
the news. He was very pale. Otto had the urge to go to the bathroom. Dario drew
his lips inward and bit lightly on them. Then he explained: "Listen, I'm
really short of money, man. I tell you what though -- I could give you a great
tattoo. Like a serious tattoo. Maybe a snake or a tiger. Full color, man. Big
as you want. Like a thousand dollar job. Trade you for the money for the vet.
You'd be way ahead."
Otto
backed away, swallowing a lot and shaking his head and murmuring "no"
several times softly. “Your dog? I could do your dog perfect,” said Dario. “Right on your bicep.”
Otto dragged the
dog back inside and pumped his legs up the stairs as fast as his hams would
carry him. "Better fat than stupid," he huffed aloud to himself outside
the apartment door. From now on, he thought, Snuffy can hold it at night or
piss on the floor.
The Organic Foods Production Act and the regulations that implement it are great. They just need to be fully enforced. 
At
the Group of Eight (G8) meetings this past weekend at Camp David,
President Obama and the leaders of the rest of the world's richest
nations abandoned their governments' previous commitments to donate
$7.3 billion a year to end hunger in Africa and instead left the problem
in the hands of the so-called New Alliance for Food Security and
Nutrition where private corporations will invest $3 billion over 10
years - Monsanto has committed $50 million - beginning in three
countries, Tanzania, Ghana and Ethiopia. 
In
an effort to expose Monsanto's greed and hold the company accountable
for their crimes, we are making Genetic Crimes Unit (GCU) Action Kits
available for free to the first 50 groups who commit to Occupy Monsanto
during the week of September 17th, 2012. Fill out the online form with
your mailing address, email address, size, and basic info (date, time,
and location) about your Occupy Monsanto plans for the week of September
17th and get your free kit! 
Fair
Trade USA (formerly TransFair USA) and its new initiative, Fair
Trade For All, aims to expand fair trade certification to include
coffee plantations. 
Little Bytes: Top Stories of the Week
