Dog Food - 1. Story

Dog Food

by jfalkon

Andy sat out side the school coffee shop searching the advertisements in the school newspaper. He sipped his dark coffee, scanning the black letters until he found what he was looking for. Someone needed a dog and house sitter for the weekend. Andy called the number and explained that he had seen the advertisement and was available. The man on the other end had a few questions but was easily persuaded by Andy’s experience and politeness.

After taking down all the relevant information and wishing his new client a good day Andy put down the newspaper. He smiled thinking how lucky he was to get such easy work. Essentially the man would be paying him to live in his home and play with his dog. From experience Andy knew that if he was organized he could get plenty of homework done.

When Friday came, Andy reported for work. His employer Dean lived in a large house in the newly developed suburbs. Andy felt small standing in front of the enormous double doors. He pressed the doorbell and heard movement inside. Then the door opened. Andy barely had the time to take in Dean’s great looks when a small dog ran out to great him. It was a Scottish terrier. Andy soon found out that the dog’s name was Midnight. His coat was darker than a moonless night.

“Come here, boy!” called Dean and then turned to Andy, “Please come is.”

Andy followed Dean inside, speechless and quickly falling in love with the tall strong man. Momentarily taking his eyes off Dean, Andy was amazed by the house. The living room was pale blue expanse of modern decor. The furniture was a sleek curvy mid-century style. The television was an enormous flat screen and the fireplace was almost large enough to walk into.

“Let me give you the grand tour,” offered Dean with a smile so warm that could have melted ice.

Andy gladly followed. He was awestruck by the size of the rooms and hardly said anything as he was shown the enormous guestroom where he would sleep. Then they went downstairs to the kitchen and Dean showed him where all the pet supplies were. Midnight followed on their heals.

“That’s the dog food,” said Dean giving Midnight a treat, “you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. I made some lasagna yesterday.”

“Wow. You make your own lasagna,” was all Andy could think to say.

“”Yeah, I like to cook,” admitted Dean pushing a strand of dark brown hair away from his eyes, “Well, I better get packing.”

Twenty minutes later Dean was gone and Andy was playing with the terrier. Midnight was happily chasing a ball around the huge living room. Andy was smiling, still under the spell of the tall handsome man he had just met. Convinced that the weekend would be perfect Andy threw the ball and watched the dog chase it.

When Midnight finally got tired and curled up for a nap Andy switched on the TV and took out his schoolbooks. With half his attention on a movie he worked through his advanced algebra assignment. An hour later he fed the dog and having finished the math homework, turned his attention to a reading assignment. It chronicled one man’s slow decent into madness.

Before he could finish he was interrupted by the sound of little feet. It was time for Midnight’s walk. Andy put a leash on the dog and took him outside. The spunky animal ran gracefully along the sidewalk stopping periodically to sniff or mark his territory. To Andy the walk felt unreal as they passed manicured gardens and houses that looked more like castles. They were all build in a style that was clearly an American adaptation of old European architecture. They hinted at the gothic and the baroque but committed to neither. They were undoubtedly designed by the same architect for the new rich who wanted to pass themselves off as cultured and well traveled.

To Andy, the old fashioned façade seemed deceptive. It was inviting on the outside but cold on the inside. As Andy took Midnight back indoors he found the transition almost jarring. He had grown comfortable with the outside. The modern interior seemed almost sterile by contrast. Midnight did not mind. He ran to the kitchen wagging his tail.

It was dinnertime. Andy fed Midnight and as the dog politely went to his bowl Andy went to the stainless steal refrigerator. Inside he found a neatly covered pan of lasagna on the top shelf. He took it out and placed it on the concrete counter. He carefully removed a piece of lasagna and placed it on one of Dean’s black plates. After two minutes in the industrial looking microwave oven it was hot and delicious.

Andy was impressed with Dean’s cooking. It was not the first time a client had offered him leftovers but it was one of the few times he had really enjoyed them. The pasta was soft and the cheese melted perfectly. Andy could not tell what kind of meat was in the dish but it was moist and tender. The wonderful meal gave him a new appreciation of the somewhat clinical looking kitchen. It was a practical design for a man who liked to cook. There were many appliances some of whose purpose was not obvious. There was also an impressive collection of sharp metal knives.

After dinner, Andy read while Midnight napped by his side. As the sun set the large windows became huge dark rectangles that seemed to suck the light out of the living room. Andy soon decided to go to his designated bedroom. Midnight accompanied him up the white marble stairs. Andy’s room was down the hall. Midnight entered the first one off the stairs. Andy followed him to see what he was doing. By the time Andy found the light switch, the dog was laying on a cushion at the foot of his master’s bed. Giving Midnight a reassuring pat Andy surveyed the room. It had big windows, a floor of translucent stone, white walls, and a large light green bed. On one side was a spacious walk-in closet stocked with the latest fashions. Andy opened the light doors and stroked the silk ties enjoying the texture.

Feeling a little self conscious Andy left the closet and went to look at the bathroom. It had white and white walls, chrome fixtures, and black towels. The huge shower, which should have been comfortable made Andy feel exposed at the mere thought of bathing there. Looking at his watch to make sure he had let Midnight out within the hour, Andy left the bathroom. He wished Midnight a good night and was ready to go to his room when he noticed a book on the dresser. He took it with him.

Once he was in his own room Andy was about to open the book. Then the phone rang. It was Dean checking on his dog. Andy assured Dean that Midnight was safely tucked into his dog bed and asked how the trip was going. The trip was going well and Dean was happy. After he put down the phone Andy lay on the big guest bed and let his mind wander as the sound of Dean’s deep voice faded from his ears. Dean seemed like a great man and yet there was no evidence of him dating anyone. As Andy speculated on why the book he had put down on the nightstand caught his eye.

It was bound in canvas and unlabeled. Andy opened it and was surprised to see that it was a notebook. The first page had a date on the top. “August 1^st,” it read. Curious, Andy read the paragraph that followed.

“I just finished dinner. It was good though lonely, not that I am ever alone. The dog is developing a taste for this meat, lucky animal. He likes to chew the bones.

Work’s been good to me. No trouble there or anywhere really. I love the calm when I can rest and enjoy what I have.”

Andy put down the book. He looked around guiltily realizing that he had just read from someone else’s diary. He justified it to himself. He had not known what the book was and had not read anything too personal. He considered taking the book back to Dean’s room but decided that it was not worth disturbing Midnight. Andy put the book on the nightstand and decided to work on some homework. He quickly got sleepy and put down his books.

After a few hours he awoke disoriented and aware of someone watching him. For a few seconds he lay very still. Then he remembered Dean and the house. Sitting up he heard something moving and saw a dark shadow at the foot of his bed. After a few nervous seconds he recognized the dog and got up to let him out.

As Andy stood by the door waiting Midnight ran around the yard raising his leg and sniffing. Andy looked over his shoulder at the cool gray wall clock. It was three o’clock. After a few minutes the dog was still excitedly sniffing but Andy was getting cold. He called Midnight a few times but the dog continued stubbornly patrolling the yard. When he was finally satisfied with his marking he ran back to his comfortable dog bed.

Andy, now wide awake, went back to his room. He lay in the dark thinking about Dean. Dean was instantly likable but his home did not reflect his personality. Unable to sleep Andy turned on the lights, which only revealed more questions. The bare walls seemed watch him as he tried to understand Dean. The blue paint, which in another context would have seemed summery, looked icy cold. The white sheets on the steal frame bed reminded Andy of old hospitals. The slab of glass that served as a nightstand looked like ice. Only the diary that lay on it looked inviting.

As his curiosity overwhelmed his conscience Andy opened the book and read.

“August 2,

I’ve had my eye on someone, a gardener. He is young and strong. I see the dog watching him too. We both feel it. It’s amazing what abilities of perception come when you let go of your inhibitions. There is power that in giving in to instincts.”

Intrigued by the strange short entry, Andy read on.

“August 3,

The heat is incredible. I can barely walk to the car without roasting. This hell on Earth is made worse by the nagging bastard at work. But I must be calm. A day will come for everything and it is not yet his time.

August 4,

I saw him again today pruning hedges. A strong hard working man is hard to find these days. One like this who sweats and bakes in the sun is rare.

Supplies are starting to get low.”

Andy did not understand everything but he was captivated by what he assumed was Dean’s interest in another man. He wondered what had happened with the gardener in the few months since the entry was written.

“August 5,

I started laying my plans today. I can not allow anything to go wrong. The house is slowly being prepared. It will be soon. It must be.

August 6,

His name is Mark. I will have him. He is right, I can tell. We talked shortly. I can not show too much interest right away. I can not show the pleasure I get from the smell of his skin. So young and so fresh.”

Andy smiled at the honest passion. With a twinge of jealousy he read on.

“August 7,

He is my gardener now but he will soon be so much more. I can’t wait to take him, to absorb him, to make him part of me. The dog knows. The wolf in him can sense my hunger. It won’t be long now.

August 8,

He is not coming today but tomorrow he will be back. He will be mine!

Such a wonderfully exhilarating thought can not be coupled with such a fucked up day. The dam secretary can’t find anything. The computer is dieing and the IT guy is smoking crack!”

A mixture of guilt and tiredness made Andy put the book down. He was satisfied to know that Dean was gay. He told himself that he would put the book back the next day. It was an easy promise to make with half closed eyes.

The next day Andy was awakened by Midnight. The dog hopped into his bed and was wagging his tail. Andy got up and led the animal outside. He felt strangely conspicuous in his pajamas in the manicured garden. He wondered if he felt more exposed because he had read another man’s diary. Then he wondered what else the forbidden pages contained.

On his way to the shower he thought about Dean but as soon as he stepped into the bathroom the happy thoughts were washed away. The smooth white tiles and glass enclosure made him feel paranoid as if he were being watched. He showered quickly and got dressed. He then took Midnight for a walk. The brisk air and warm sunshine made him feel normal again. As he walked passed the huge lawns and imagined the young gardener mowing grass and trimming bushes. He knew that he would not be able to resist finding out what had happened to the gardener.

As soon as Midnight was napping on the living room rug Andy brought the book from his room and began to read.

“August 9^th,

He is back. I watched him work. There is a smooth efficiency to him. I think he is learning to like me. That is good. He will be with me a long time.”

The entry made Andy uncomfortable. Dean’s interest in the man was starting to look obsessive. Like the house the writing seemed to lack warmth.

“August 10,

It won’t be long now. The house is ready. The plans are made. Our fates are sealed.”

Andy nearly dropped the book as the phone rang. He stared at the phone for a second then answered it. He was greeted by Dean’s warm voice.

“Hi Andy. How’s everything?”

“Great. Midnight’s taking a nap,” answered Andy trying to sound calm.

“Has he been any trouble?”

“No, he’s been great. I just took him for a walk.”

“Good. My trip went well. I’ll probably be back Sunday afternoon. If you like we could have dinner together. How does that sound?”

“Great. I’d like that,” answered Andy smiling.

“Alright, see you then.”

“Alright”

“Bye”

“Bye”

Andy smiled at the book he had been reading. Something in Dean’s tone of voice told him that the gardener had not been Mr. Right after all. He hung up the phone. Midnight was now awake and standing in front of him. The big black eyes watched Andy with interest as he got up and walked to the cookie jar. His ears perked up as Andy gave him a treat. The little dog was ready to play. As soon as he finished the treat he got his ball. They went to the back yard and played fetch until Midnight’s black fur was hot enough to fry an egg. The tired dog finally went inside and collapsed on the cool tiles. Andy sat on the living room couch and picked up the book. He wanted to know that the gardener was not Dean’s boyfriend and that Dean was not interested in him anymore.

“August 11,

Another day at the office. I couldn’t take it any more. That bimbo by the phones screwed things up again! I know it was stupid but those chocolate laxatives dissolve so well in coffee.

She went home early in tears. I can not do anything like that again, but it brought such relief.”

Andy could not help laughing and got a strange look from the dog. Andy liked practical jokes even if they were a little cruel. He was also relived to see that Dean was not as obsessed with his gardener as he had thought.

“August 12,

The gardener is back. We sat and talked over a drink. We talked about the future. He has no idea what it holds for him. Right now we are just friends, but soon we will be so much closer.”

Now Midnight was back on his feet. He was ready for another game of fetch and would not be kept waiting. The little terrier kept Andy busy for most of the afternoon. When he finally had some time to himself, Andy needed all his will power not to go back to the book. He told himself it was none of his business. A part of him was also a little frightened of what may come next. He did not like the way Dean wrote about the other man. It seemed abnormal and obsessive. The short stunted entries seemed to say things between the lines that Andy did not want to believe. He forced himself to do homework until Midnight wanted his attention again.

When night finally fell Andy gave in to his curiosity. As Midnight slept Andy took the book to bed.

“August 13,

The secretary is gone permanently. Good riddance. I never saw such a sack of shit in human skin! I pretend to miss her but I’m glad she’s gone.

August 14,

I saw him again working next door. Such a beautiful man, smaller than me but almost as strong. He is working for me tomorrow. I stopped to talk to him. He likes me. I think he trusts me. No, I know he trusts me.

August 15,

He came inside and joined me for a drink. He’s comfortable here. I like him inside my home.

August 16,

They buried her today. I watched. The cemetery is like a stage on which they parody her life. I listen to them give her attributes she never had: concern, humanity, organization even. It’s all a joke! May she rot in hell! Coffee, lipstick, lost forms, misfiled files and all!”

Andy closed the book. It sent a chill up his spine to see someone take such satisfaction in another’s death. He wanted to like Dean but it was becoming clear that there was something wrong. Not wanting to think about it Andy put the book on the nightstand and turned off the lights. Thanks to Midnight he was tired enough to sleep.

The next morning Andy was glad that it would be his last time showering in the huge guest bathroom. He felt even more naked than usual as he tried to justify what was in the diary. He hoped that the writing was only a product of frustration, as he rushed to get clean. The minute he was out of the shower and dressed Midnight’s dark eyes were on him. Andy took the dog for a walk.

As soon as he had a moment to himself Andy got the book from the nightstand. He wanted to understand Dean more than ever. Somewhere inside Andy’s mind a dark disquieting image of Dean was beginning to form. He was starting to feel nervous and he hoped the book would hold some answers to calm his fears. He opened the book and cautiously began to read.

“August 17,

We have a new secretary. If he is any good, time will tell, but at least he’s not an eyesore.

At home all is ready.

August 18,

I sharpened the knives. Everything from the pairing knife to the cleaver.”

Andy shivered at the mental picture of Dean with a knife in his hands. The once handsome man was slowly morphing into a monster. Andy shook his head. He turned his eyes back to the book dreading what else it might reveal.

“We are ready for the feast. We will have one soon. When exactly depends on the guest of honor.”

Andy breathed a sigh of relief. He had completely forgotten about Dean’s love of cooking. Andy smiled and leaned back against the couch. He was not sure who the guest of honor had been. He wondered if he would be the special guest the following night. With that he decided to get something to eat. As he ate he reminded himself to ask Dean what kind of meat he had used in his lasagna. He suspected that it was something exotic.

After lunch he walked Midnight again. Then, seeing that it was already after noon, he decided to put the diary away. He felt a little ashamed as he carried it upstairs. He was going to put it back where he found it but could not leave it alone. Something compelled him to read. He sat down on Dean’s bed and opened the pages again.

“August 19,

I asked him today. He’s going to join us for dinner. I am happy. So is the dog. He salivated in anticipation and so do I.”

Something struck Andy as unattractive about this passage but he was not sure why. Slightly on edge, he continued reading.

“August 20,

I did it! Finally the time came. He came over and I cooked the remaining meat. We shared it. He knew me tonight like few people have. He saw that side of me. Then, when he had satisfied his hunger I satisfied mine. I took him upstairs. I took him to my room. Slowly I stripped him to his skin. We went to the shower.”

Andy bit his lip as he flipped the page. He had a craving of his own to satisfy.

“He stepped in, innocent and clean. I followed him like a dark dirty shadow. That is when he saw the knives, but he saw them to late. He looked at me confused, as I cut him across the neck. Not deep enough to kill just to draw blood. He screamed and fought.

The red flood poured down his chest, deep hot red, smelling of life. I dropped the knife. Its work was done. I washed my hands in the red stream. I let his clean blood wash over me as he struggled. I pressed my chest against his and my mouth against his neck. I drank the hot life that drained from his veins as he tried to gasp, and tried to grab some kind of salvation. There was nothing there. The walls are so smooth and cold, white stained with red streaks that would be there only to briefly.

I caught him as he fell loosing his grasp on everything real. I whispered to him. I told it was OK. He did not understand. His eyes showed only dimming pain but he was destined for something much greater. Every day I would take a little piece of him into me. He would become one with me. I will only share him with my best friend the dog and the next one. We will eat his flesh…”

Andy looked up at the sudden sound of Midnight’s barking. He closed the book trying to make sense of the sickening revelation. Meanwhile, Midnight’s barking intensified. Andy got up feeling weak and sick. He put the book back in its place as the door downstairs opened. He wanted to cry when he thought that he had just spent the last few days on the site of a violent murder. He listened to the happy sound of dog and owner reuniting. Andy walked down the stairs on legs that felt like rubber trying not to look scared. Half way down the stairs he saw Dean bring in a few bags of groceries and a briefcase. He put them down next to a suitcase, which Midnight was excitedly sniffing. As he looked up at Andy his expression became one of concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked taking a step towards the stairs.

“Yeah, I think I’m just catching…” he said as he reached the last step.

He could not finish his sentence before his vision went gray and he collapsed at the foot of the stairs. When he came to he was laying on the living room couch. At first he could not remember where he was. Then he saw Dean’s large frame leaning over him.

“Andy, are you Ok?” he asked with a hint of panic in his voice.

“I’m just…I feel funny,” Andy answered trying not to look the cannibal in the eye, “I think I need to go home and rest.”

Andy made a move to get up but Dean put a hand on his shoulder. The warm touch made him feel slightly nauseous.

“Take it easy. No one’s chasing you out. Let me get you some water,” Dean said.

Andy felt himself sweating as the room went in and out of focus. He watched Dean walk away aware of how strong he looked. Andy dimly wondered if it was eating human flesh that made Dean so strong. Then he thought about his likely fate. He forced himself to sit up. Feeling light headed he leaned against the back of the couch. A thin film of sweat was forming on his skin. The sight of Dean turned it cold.

As he took a sip of water Andy tried to convince himself that it was not poisoned. Dean sat down next to him. He was breathing deeply, and Andy was sure that the madman was sniffing him. Across the room Midnight stared at them coldly.

“Are you feeling better?” Dean asked gently placing a hand on Andy’s forehead.

“Yeah,” answered Andy, “I think I have the flue. It’s been going around the school.”

He hoped this would make him less appetizing but it seemed to do the opposite. Dean looked at him with concern. He insisted that Andy lay down. Dean brought him a pillow and a blanket and covered him. These seemingly kind gestures struck fear in Andy. The worst of it was when Dean said that he would cook him something to help him regain his strength. Andy closed his eyes against the images that flooded his head. As he listened to Dean’s footsteps recede into the kitchen Andy thought about the leftovers in the fridge. His eyes filled with tears as he heard something being chopped up with a knife. He did not move from under the blanket. He even pulled it over his head like a child afraid of monsters in the dark. For a while he tried to pretend that none of this was happening but the sounds from the kitchen continued. After twenty minutes, he heard the refrigerator open and thought of what might be in it.

Knowing that his time was running out Andy gathered his strength. Still shaking he got up from the couch. Dean heard him and asked what he was doing.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” answered Andy with a calmness that surprised him.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed the façade fell away. He began to shake and cry like a lost child. Letting hysteria take over he sank to the floor. There was no way he could fight off Dean. Andy could almost taste his own blood as images of bloody murder flooded his head.

He spent only a few minutes in this state but when he finally picked himself up off the floor it felt like he had been there for hours. He now felt numb as if something in his mind had overloaded. He calmly rinsed his face washing away any residue of fear. He looked himself in the eye and saw only the determination to live. He turned to face the door hoping that he would be able to escape the fate that awaited him on the other side.

When he stepped back into the hallway a chill instantly came over him but it did not last. Midnight was watching him with his coal black eyes. Andy met them with a cool and calm look of his own. He slowly walked towards the kitchen listening to the rhythmic clanging of a spoon against the side of a pot. As he approached the kitchen door the sound stopped. Andy would have gladly walked out of the house but Dean stepped out blocking his way. Andy considered pushing past him and running out the door until he saw the knife in Dean’s hand. Dean smiled at him. Andy smiled back. He would have to choose his battles carefully.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

“Better,” answered Andy. It was the truth. He was feeling stronger now.

“Great. Have a seat,” Dean said escorting his guest to the table.

Andy sat down and tried to look happy knowing that his main advantage was the element of surprise. He resolved to make pleasant small talk until he could think of a way to get Dean to leave the room. Andy praised the soup although he was sure it was boiled out of the bones of Dean’s last victim. The brought had been standing in the freezer all weekend waiting for him. Andy struggled between waves of revulsion and an equally disturbing appreciation of the flavor. He did his best to imagine that it was just chicken soup.

The next course would not allow for such delusions. It was a meat dish. It sizzled in the pan as Dean danced around the kitchen adding spices until it was ready. Andy looked at the muscle tissue and knew that his own meat would look the same fried. He cut into it and gathering all his will power raised the fork to his mouth. The flesh was soft and moist. It had a sweat familiar flavor making the act of eating it more difficult. Andy smiled though he felt like gagging or crying. He complemented Dean on his cooking.

“This is so good,” he said.

“Thank you,” Dean answered.

“Are you a chef or something?” Andy asked terrified at the idea.

“No,” Dean laughed, “I actually work for a hospital.”

Andy laughed at the irony as his sanity threatened to slip away from him. In the back of his head he was aware of the great skill with which the food was prepared.

“So, what’s your major?” asked Dean after a short silence.

“English.”

“What do you plan to do with that?” asked Dean, honestly curious.

“I would love to be a writer. I might go into teaching,” answered Andy confused by Dean’s interest in a future that he was intent on preventing.

“Oh yeah,” answered Dean impaling another piece of meat on his fork, “I love to write. Its my way of relaxing.”

“Can I see some of your writing?” asked Andy hoping that this would send Dean out of the room and give him a few minutes to escape.

“Yeah, in fact, I would appreciate some feedback on something I’m working on. It’s written in the form of a diary. The character is this deranged killer. I’m not sure if I really captured his character though. Just let me go upstairs and bring it.”

As Dean left the table, Andy stared at the plate. For the first time that night, pork was just pork and chicken was just chicken. Then it all became a blur as his eyes filled with tears of relief.

© 2008 jfalkon

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