Читать книгу Keep Your Doors Open - Ryan Vuckovich - Страница 4

“Guess what happened to me today?” Paris announced finding Martian lying on the table with his legs plopped over like a cat taking a nap. After being caught not playing the part of a dog, Martian quickly adjusted himself for the role of canine and jumped up on Paris to give him some kisses.

“Alright, alright,” Paris said trying to calm his friend down, “Settle down so I can tell you about my day. Well, to start off, I made it to the office about an hour and a half early today! That never happens. Normally, I get there about 30 minutes before my shift starts, but, for some strange reason, I did not run into any traffic. I mean there were animals all over the place as usual, but nothing that would cause me to hide out somewhere until they scattered. So that is that part, now let me tell—”

“Police, anyone home?” The conversation had been interrupted by two police men walking into the house. Due to the open door/window policy, there was no such thing as “breaking and entering” anymore, yet another problem for the middle and lower classes was not having the right to privacy. The police loved this and took advantage of it as much as possible; the policy was to their advantage since they were able to walk in and catch someone doing illegal drugs, or perhaps harming an animal, and immediately take them into custody. Martian started barking until Paris told him to hush up. He obeyed the request as the police officers entered the living room.

“Hello sir, and how are you doing today?” One of the officers asked.

“I’m fine, what can I do for you two gentleman today?” Paris said standing up straight.

“Well,” the other officer said, “We were doing our normal patrol of the area, and your home was randomly selected to be investigated.”

“Damn, I forgot to look out for them,” thought Paris.

The police always kept an eye out for people entering their homes. It was there way of being able to enter a house and not worry about being mauled by an animal hiding somewhere. They used house owners as if they were pawns in chess.

“I see,” Paris replied, “Well, you gentleman caught me just getting home from work.”

“Sorry about that. We won’t be long. Is that your dog?” referring to Martian sitting up straight a few feet away.

Paris knew that this was an entrapment question; due to the abolitionism section of the Pacheco Laws, no one was allowed to have any animals as pets or even refer to them as such. For Paris to say “Yes, this is my dog” would be a confession and a cause for arrest. So, he did the smart thing and replied with, “No officer, I do not own a dog.” This statement was not a lie because in Paris’s mind, Martian was not a dog.

“Okay,” said the officer suspiciously, “That dog looks pretty trained just sitting there, not walking away from anyone.”

“Tamed, I believe is the word you are looking for officer,” Paris said sensing another manipulation tactic.

The officer did not like Paris’s comment. He stepped forward and was about to say something until the other officer said, “Nice bed over there,” referring to Martian's bed underneath Paris’s bunk.

“Yeah,” said Paris, “This dog just came in about a week ago and made itself a nice little home here.”

“So, you are acknowledging that this dog has exercised its right to claim property?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“And with that, you have made sure its other rights have been adhered to?”

“Yes sir. All my doors and windows are always kept open, so it has its freedom of movement. And, I do not plan to eat this dog, so its personal safety and right to live are also protected as well.”

Both officers did not like this joke at all. They were determined to find something to prosecute Paris for, so they continued with their questions.

“So, you say that this dog has been here for about a week?”

“Why didn’t I say a couple of days?” Paris thought. “Yes officer,” he said aloud.

“And how has this dog acquired food?”

“I’ve seen the dog eat a few rodents here and there. And yes, every time I have seen it happen, I made sure to file a report with the police since an animal has died on my property.”

“Have you fed the dog anything?”

“A few things here and there, out of the kindness of my heart of course.”

“And have you ever asked the dog to sit when you fed it?”

“No sir, I’ve just left the food on the ground,” Paris said catching another trick.

The police looked at each other for a moment and then smiled.

“So,” one began, “since you have filed several animal deaths happening on your property that this dog has caused, you would not mind if we ran a check with our precinct to make sure all the paperwork was filed correctly?”

Now, Paris began to worry; he had given up on filing animal deaths a long time ago. And even when he did, they were filed way before Martian was even living with him. But, he could not show any sign that it would bother him, or else the cops would finally have him. Then he thought about Martian, maybe I could get him to attack them, and make them change their minds about doing the search. But how to do it without letting them know that Martian was “trained”?

“If only he could sense my thoughts,” thought Paris.

“If you could remove your glasses, so we can take your picture and run it through our system that would be much appreciated sir,” the policeman said while taking out his electronic device.

While holding the device up high to take the picture, Martian started barking loudly. Both policemen jumped back caught off guard by the animal that was initially polite but now snarling. Paris knew that Martian would never hurt him but jumped back pretending that he was on the side of the cops.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” said one of the policemen.

“I don’t know,” lied Paris, “I’m just as shocked as you!”

“It might be that new thing that’s been going around,” said the other officer, “Causing all those recent animal attacks.”

Both policemen started to move slowly toward the door while Martian showed his teeth dripping saliva.

“Whatever got this dog riled up, I’m not staying to find out. You might want to think about finding a way to lure this dog out of your home sir,” the officer said to Paris as they kept moving toward the exit.

“Your damn right I’m going to!” said Paris, “That’s the last time I feed any animal that comes into my home!”

The policemen jumped into their car and went off to continue patrolling the area. The unplanned reaction from Martian had worked; he had sensed that Paris was in trouble and did his part to protect his friend. Paris fell onto the floor flat on his back and inhaled deeply. Martian had stopped snarling and was panting with his very large tongue hung over the side of his mouth. A bee flew into the room and landed on Martian’s nose. The dog tried to bat the insect with its tongue but missed, and the bee flew out the nearest window.

“You make a great jackal, but a shitty frog old friend,” laughed Paris as he saw the whole thing while lying on the ground. Martian leaped into the air and landed on top of Paris. He proceeded to wipe his tongue all over Frank’s face.

“Okay, okay! I take it back! You’re a great frog! A great frog!” Paris screamed while still laughing. The two wrestled for a while before Paris tired himself out.

When he got up to fix dinner for both of them, Paris thought about what the police had said earlier about the recent animal attacks. What was it that was causing these animals to be more aggressive than they were before? A virus? New form of rabies? Humans may never know the answer to this because of the Pacheco Laws. The world could not discover if it was a virus or rabies, but, even worse, not be able to find a cure without testing on animals. Times were bad for modern medicine, but all Paris could think about was how it may affect his best friend. Could Martian get sick? Could he one day attack him? No, of course not; Martian was his friend, and friends don’t hurt each other. And besides, “Martians” don’t catch Earth diseases.