FICTION: Jenny by Angel Luis Colon

Billy showed up at Eric’s double wide around four in the morning with a mule and a rucksack full of dildos.

“Ain’t a mule.” Billy tied the animal to the trailer’s stair rail. “Just a plain old donkey.” He lit a Winston and smiled. “Got me a financial plan’ll blow your socks off.” He walked into the trailer and dropped the sack onto the floor.

A large green dong rolled to Eric’s feet. “I’m a little scared to ask.” He stepped back.

“You ever hear about those shows the Mexicans do down in Thiawana?”

“You mean, Tijuana?”

“Yeah, yeah. They charge a bunch of fellas to go into a room, sit down with some Kleenex, and watch a girl get mounted by a burro. All the rage down there.”

Eric scratched his balls over his shorts. “Never been down Mexico way—come to think of it—neither have you.”

“Don’t matter. What matters is I got a donkey and a willing lady.” He looked around the unfurnished space of the double wide. “Just need a place to hold the show.”

Eric knew that look. Usually meant a night in county lock up or worse was coming. “Nuh-uh, Billy. No bestiality shows in my trailer.”

“This is sure-fire.” He blew a stack of smoke over their heads. “Besides, you got the biggest trailer in the park—outside of Earl.”

“So ask Earl.” Eric shrugged away from Billy’s grip.

“You know the amount of heat he got in there.”

The donkey brayed and Eric sighed. “Fuck’s sake, this is crazy.”

“Enough to work.”

Eric went to the fridge. Got out a bottle of Sunny D and chugged it down. He wiped the peach fuzz over his lip clean. “What girl did you manage to talk into this?”

“Vicki, from Waffle House.”

“Really?” Eric frowned. Vicki was known for turning tricks on the cheap. “Didn’t think that sort of stuff was her scene.”

“Please, she’ll do anything for a fifty. What happens if I offer her a hundred guaranteed?” Billy went to the fridge. “No more D?”

“Nope, got some Capri Sun back there from the last barbecue.”

“Fine.” Billy grabbed a Capri Sun. Struggled with the straw “So like I was saying, if I offer the right amount of money, she’ll spread ‘em.”

“So you ain’t asked her yet?”

Billy winced. “Not like she’ll say no.”

“To fucking a donkey? Shit, Billy, where did you even get it?”

“It’s a loaner.” That was Billy-speak for ‘stolen.’

Eric made a ‘gimme’ motion with his right hand. “Give me a Winston.”

Billy passed his pack over. Eric lit a smoke. Exhaled. “Explain this. I’m having a hard time figuring out how we make money.”

“You know how many weird motherfuckers we got in the trailer park alone?” Billy counted off on a hand. “Perry, Taylor—all those losers said they’d be down to toss twenty five down—minimum—to watch this shit.”

“And you’re sure this wasn’t drunk or high talk?” Eric took another pull of the Winston.

“Nah, we only smoked a little crystal last night.”

“Uh huh.” Eric gave Billy the side-eye.

“I swear, bro, this ain’t gonna be like that backyard wrestling shit.”

Eric scratched at the seven inch scar running from his left wrist down the outside of his forearm to the elbow. “That donkey don’t got rabies, right?”

“Nah, man. Donkeys kick. Don’t get behind the thing with no notice is all.”

“Twenty five a head, huh?”

“Yessir, maybe more if it blows up.”

Eric nodded. “Could always use the extra cash. Next check ain’t coming until…” Brought his phone to life. “…shit, it’s the fourteenth. Two weeks until the first.”

Billy wrapped an arm around Eric. Arched his eyebrows. “So?”

“Screw it. You got the donkey, the girl, the will, and a way.” He let the Winston between his lips fall to the ground. Snuffed it out with the heel of his boot. “Set it up.”

“Awesome.” Billy pumped a fist. “I gotta ask you one other favor, though.”

Eric frowned. “What now?”

“You think you can go to Waffle House and get Vicki?”

“You mean, talk her into this shit?”

“She’s sweet on you.”

Eric rubbed his temples. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Eric pointed a finger and swept the room. “Motherfucking tarps, son. Every-fucking-where. I get donkey jizz or shit on my stuff and you’re scrubbing it out with your tongue.”

Billy lifted his hands in surrender. “Absolutely, man. I got to hit up Home Depot for a new grill either way. Gonna cook up some burgers and dogs. You know, make this a dinner show kinda thing.”

“Not sure I wanna know who’s gonna have an appetite before or after this shit goes down.” Eric snatched his keys from the Formica countertop in the kitchen. A flap of vinyl curled up — freed from the weight of a Chevy branded alarm dongle. “I’ll man the grill outside.”

“How come?”

“No way I’m going in there.” Eric threw the screen door of the trailer open. It clanged behind him and shook on its hinges. He turned and thrust a hand through a fist sized hole in the screen. “Yo, give me two smokes for the road.”

Billy handed over three. “I’ll get you a carton or two after this.”

“Whatever. Hide my goddam weed while you’re at it.”

“No doubt.”

Eric eyed Billy and scowled. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“No repeats of that bullshit with your cousins.”

“Third cousins.”

“Whatever. Hide the weed. No freebies for blowjays. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Eric spit. “Third cousins my ass.”

“Third cousins is barely family,” Billy argued.

Eric shook his head and lit a cigarette. “I’ll be back in a few.”


The Waffle House was cemetery dead during church hours. Eric liked it that way. Not much could beat Vicki’s full attention and an extra stacked plate of pancakes or biscuits and gravy. On occasion, he tossed her a little extra for a backseat hummer. He wasn’t dumb enough to ever slap privates with her, but he felt like he’d known her long enough to be comfortable with her mouth. It seemed clean.

Eric pulled into one of the handicap spots and leaned over the center console of his 88’ Cavalier. He dug through the pile of assorted trash at the foot of the passenger side seat until he found his handicap parking tag. Expiration date was July 27th, the year conveniently missing. He slipped it over the neck of the rear view and checked his reflection. He hopped out the car. Got to the front door and brushed his pants off, took a breath, and walked in.

A bell jingled as he entered. Vicki was sitting at the front counter, hand cupping her cheek. Brunette curls spilled from her black baseball cap and framed her baby fat cheeks. There was a thick layer of bronzer over the layers of concealer on her face. Green eye shadow spread from eyelid to pencil thin brows. Classy.

“Welcome to Waffle House,” she monotoned. Looked over and a thin smile broke over her face. Creases pushed through her makeup to mark the wear and tear. “How are you hun?”

He slid into the stool to her left and nodded. “Cup a coffee and a short stack.” Eric knew the type of men Vicki liked. Watched her get pushed into Earl Clevitt’s double wide like a dog enough times to get the message.

Vicki smirked and looked him up and down. Didn’t say a word, but turned around and got him his coffee, then wrote his order down and yelled it to the cook through the galley window behind her. “So how’s life treating you?”

Eric sugared his coffee, stirred and took a long sip. “Okay, I guess.”

“You guess?”

The clink of a cheap plastic dish broke the silence. Vicki pivoted on a heel and returned with a stack of microwaved pancakes. She dropped the plate in front of him and crossed her arms under her breasts. He stared.

“So, you said ‘I guess’. What’s that about?” She leaned on the counter in front of him. Smelled like cinnamon.

“Ah, well.” Eric lifted a fork and shoveled a mouthful of pancake into his piehole. Chewed. Swallowed hard. Took a sip of coffee to wash it down. “See, well…I was talking to Billy Lee before.”

“Is this about that sex show shit?”

He looked down at his pancakes. “Yeah.”

“How much you boys willing to part with?”

Eric’s eyes widened and he looked back to her. She wasn’t smiling. “Oh, well, I think he said minimum was a hundred. If we get a good crowd I can probably talk him into more.”

That got her batting her eyes like a seventeen-year old virgin at church. “Would you do that for me? That would be so awesome of you.” She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Eric nodded. Reminded himself about Earl. Tapped the lip of his coffee mug. “Need a refill.” Went back to shoveling dry pancake into his face.


He watched her turn around. Admired the width of her hips and the curve of her ass. By the time she was back with a fresh cup, his plate was clean and he was hard as a rock. His original intentions were only breakfast and conversation, but this was a problem needed solving.

“Hungry, huh?”

Eric drained his coffee. Regretted it as he felt the roof of his mouth go numb from the scalding heat of the muck. He slipped a hand down the front pocket of his jeans and tossed a twenty onto the counter. He lifted another twenty into the air with a smile. “You got a break coming up?”

Vicki smiled, pulled a piece of Winterfresh from the pouch of her apron. She unwrapped it from its foil and slid it into her mouth. “For you, babe? Absolutely.”


“Keep it sweetie, I had fun.” Vicki lowered the passenger side sun visor of Eric’s car and checked her makeup. She applied a thick coat of lipstick—labeled ‘Wet N’ Wild’. Reached over and cupped Eric’s crotch with a wink. “Besides, big hunk a meat like that is always a treat.”

Eric grinned when she turned her attentions back to her reflection. Made a stone face when she looked back to him. “Much obliged.” He rolled down his window and hung an arm out.

“So what time should I come tonight?”

The reminder hit him in the gut like a cinderblock. “Oh … I think Billy was thinking eight or nine.”

“Sounds good.” Vicki leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “See you later.” She opened the car door and slipped out.

“Do you need a ride?” The question came out before Eric had a chance to stop.

Vicki stopped near the driver’s side window. Leaned down and let her tits rest on his arm. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll come in with Earl.”

Eric nodded. “Cool.” Scratched his chin. “He, uh, coming to the show?”

“Fuck no. He’s probably going to get high and play Xbox. You know how he is.”

“He’s cool with you doing that…stuff?”

“Sure, why not? His ass sells meth all day. I sell my cooter. Least I don’t kill nobody.”

“Makes sense…so, guess I’ll see you later.”

“Guess you will.” She walked back to the day job.


Eric made a stop at the local Stop N’ Sip and there he was all in all his glory—Earl Clevitt.

“Fucking MacEnroe.” Earl sauntered over from his beat up Chevy Nova. Whitesnake struggled to blare from tinny speakers. “What’s good, brother?” He offered a fist.

Eric bumped fists with Earl. “Needed some cigarettes and gas. What’s up with you?”

He looked past Eric’s shoulder. Earl was always looking for shit wasn’t there. “Nothing doing, bro. Trying to sling a little ice for tonight’s festivities. Heard Uncle-Father got some crazy train shit lined up with Vicki.” Earl loved calling Billy ‘Uncle-Father’ on account of the cousin incident.

“Ah, yeah. He begged me to let him use my double wide. Was gonna ask you, but I was like, ‘you crazy?’”

Earl chuckled. “Man, you know I got way too much heat in there.”

“Exactly what I told him.”

“You gonna watch that shit go down—join in on the fun?” Earl gave him a devilish grin. “Know you’re sweet on Vicki and all.”

“Nah, I’ll be manning the grill. Someone’s gotta feed the fucking pervs.”

Earl raised his hands. “Don’t bother me if you do. You’re good people.”

“Yeah, well, I appreciate that. Maybe some other time.”

Earl slapped him on the shoulder. “You do that, brother.”

Eric walked into the Stop N’ Sip. Gave a wave to the girl at the counter and made tracks to the refrigerators in the back. He grabbed a six pack of Molson. Made his way back to the counter and snatched at a few beef jerky strips. “Uh, thirty bucks on pump number three and two packs of Marlboros.”

The girl at the counter was on her cell phone. He had seen her once or twice before. Cute little thing. “Uh huh.” She raised a finger to Eric. “Alright ma, I’ll ask. You sure it didn’t wander off like last time?” She grabbed at Eric’s supplies and scanned each. Turned and came back with two packs of Marlboros. “Nobody stole it. Ain’t no purpose.”

Eric swallowed a softball. Dug into his pockets and tossed out his cash without counting.

“Pump three, right?” She held the phone on her shoulder and locked eyes with him.

“Uh, yeah … yeah.”

She bagged his supplies and handed them over. Eric turned to walk away.


He stopped cold. Turned slow. “Yes?”

“Your change.”

“Oh, right.” Eric came back to the counter. Collected his change as if it were on fire.

“You’re local, right? I think I’ve seen you over at Steer’s Hollow once or twice.” She smiled at him cordially.

Eric avoided her eyes. “I do a little drinking there from time to time.”

“You see a donkey wandering the roads today?”

“Donkey?” Tried to inject surprise into his voice. “Nope.”

“Figure I’d ask. My poor ma is shitting canaries. You think you can ask around?”

Eric forced a smile. “Sure thing, though, I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

“That’s what I told her.”

They stood silent.

“Well,” she said, “if you hear anything, can you give the store a call?” She rummaged through the cash register for some receipt paper and wrote a number on it. “Just ask for Rose.”

“That you?” He took the paper and slid it into his front jeans pocket.

“Uh, no. My mom.”

More silence.

“Well … ” He awkwardly backed away. “Have a good one.” Eric double-timed it out the door.

“You too,” she called out cheerily.

‘Eric! See you soon, bro” Earl paced behind his car and took a pull from a plastic vodka bottle.

Eric waved, jumped into his car, and sped off.


Billy Lee pulled hard as he could on the donkey’s leash—no dice. The damn thing wouldn’t move. “Come on, Jack.”

Eric pulled up and stepped out of his car with a smirk. “He won’t move for you?”

Jack the donkey brayed and took a shit. Billy sighed. “Been at this for near half an hour. Tried baiting the son of a bitch with carrots, even pop-tarts.”

“My pop tarts?”

“Well, yeah…”

“God damn it, Billy.” Eric walked back to the car and leaned into the open driver’s side window. Came back out with some beef jerky. “Here boy.” He removed the meat product from its plastic wrapper. Jack perked up and opened its mouth to get a nibble. Eric pulled the jerky away and Jack stepped forward. “Well damn, this was a shot in the dark.”

Billy smiled. “Good shot, though.”

They got Jack into the double wide with three pieces of jerky. Inside, the entire floor space was covered in two layers of tarp. About a dozen fold up chairs were set up to face away from Eric’s television—which Billy also covered.

“Hot damn, brother.” Eric inspected the room. “You even covered the fridge and the stove?”

“Didn’t want to have to lick anything clean.”

“Glad you listened.”

“Yeah, well, you tend to be a man of your word.”

Eric grabbed Billy by the shoulders and gave him a playful shake. “You’re damn right.”


The audience started turning up after 7:30 PM. Eric knew a handful of them — mostly perverts from around the trailer park with a “friend” along for the ride. There were a few odds and ends types — mostly bikers — he didn’t necessarily know them as much as he’d heard their names when conversing with the wrong type of people. Nothing to worry too much about. They had enough food and Eric held true to his promise of manning the grill.

“You sure you don’t want to watch?” Billy asked.

“No fucking way.” Eric flipped a burger over. “Get me more buns when you can.”

Vicki and Earl showed up around 8:00. They were both smiling a mile wide, their eyes red as apples. “Hey sweetheart.”

Vicki gave Eric a peck on the cheek. “You coming in later?”

Eric looked over at Earl. All he got was a grin and a nod. “Nah, I got me enough work keeping folks fed.” He nodded at a pile of hot dogs. “Help yourselves, though.”

Earl grabbed a fistful of dogs without a bun and chomped down. “These them all-beef franks?”

“I think so.” Eric fished into the trash can near him. Read the package the dogs came in. “Yes sir, all-beef.”

“Good. Cheap ones are all pig anuses and shit.”

Billy gently took Vicki by the elbow and smiled. “Nah, Earl. We keep a good house. Folks are paying good money for the entertainment tonight.”

Vicki grimaced at Billy. “Uh huh. And what about my cash, Uncle Father?”

Billy frowned. Fished a roll of twenties from his front pocket. “Two hundred. You can thank Eric for the extra cheese.”

Vicki smiled and turned to Eric. “You are amazing, sugar.” She hopped on in to the double wide.

A chorus of cat-calls erupted from inside.

Earl followed her—gnawing on hot dogs with abandon. “Might as well stick around.” He pointed at Eric with a free hand. “Cook up more dogs, brother.”

Eric nodded with a smile. “Will do.” He watched them enter and looked to Billy. “Speaking of entertainment, where’s the other performer?” He slid a few burgers onto a greasy paper plate.

“Jack? I got him in the bedroom. Don’t worry, though, tarped it up as if we was renovating in there. Any foreign substances are persona non gratin.”

“Grata.” Eric worked at scraping a particularly burnt burger off of the grill.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” He waved Billy off with his spatula.

Billy went back into the double wide and put on a Mariachi music.

Eric couldn’t figure out why he thought this was such a good idea — why he would be okay with Vicki breaking the laws of man and nature while a bunch of freaks watched. “Fuck me,” he cursed as he thrust a fork into a hot dog a little too enthusiastically. It rolled between the slats of the grill and fell onto the charcoal. Eric watched it flame up and blacken into ash. “No way that’s all-beef.”

So he kept cooking. Piling up the dogs and burgers a foot high on two plates. Once he felt comfortable with the amount of food, Eric made himself a burger and sat on the hood of his car. He noticed quite a few motorcycles—custom choppers—on his front lawn. He couldn’t figure out if he was surprised that these types of fellas would turn up to this kind of show.

Fortunately, Eric didn’t need to ruminate on those matters for long. Deep in thought and halfway through his dry burger—he heard the kind of scream you only hear during a slasher flick.

“Vicki.” He shoved the last of his hamburger into his mouth and shot to the trailer.


Eric near collided into Earl’s back when he ran into the double wide. Earl held him firm with a single hand and a frown.

“What in the fuck of all that’s holy is wrong with you boys?” Vicki asked. She was sitting on her knees, topless. Billy stood opposite her holding Jack’s leash.

“You said you was down to do a show.” Billy stroked the back of Jack’s neck. Jack snorted.

“Not for this kinda shit. Not with a fucking donkey.” She leaned forward and snatched her blouse from the floor. “I said I was okay with a little sex toy bullshit, maybe a train if the money was right.”

Earl leaned into Eric and gave a curt nod. “You knew about this?”

Eric blinked. “Well … Billy said he mentioned it. I sorta assumed we was good to go.”

“You idiots realize it’s a girl donkey, right?” Vicki stomped over to Eric. Smacked him across the cheek. “Asshole.” She stormed out, tears in her eyes.

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Girl donkey?” He bent down and inspected Jack’s underside. “Well, shit—no dick.”

Eric watched Vicki disappear into Earl’s trailer through the screen door and frowned. He turned back to the “stage”. Quite a few of the bikers seemed a little upset about the lack of a show. Earl grinned and wrapped an arm around Eric. “Well, shit, son. Seems you and your boy may have a problem. Got ourselves a few lonely fellas with a terrible case of blue balls.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“Well, it’s a lady donkey, so it’s bad all around.” Eric folded his arms across his chest. Eyed Billy hard. “Get that thing the fuck outta my double wide. Give these fellas their money too.”

Billy swallowed. “That’ll be a problem.” He looked at Earl. “Unless you…”

“Shit, Uncle Father, I sincerely hope you ain’t about to ask me to go and get Vicki’s take back. Seems she’s owed more for the — what do you call it — trauma of the situation.” He scratched the patch of hair on his chin and smiled. “Seems to me there can still be a show.”

Eric and Billy locked eyes.

Earl chuckled. “Your animal ain’t got the parts to give a lady a good time, but Uncle Father here got the equipment to get this job done. Far as I know, he ain’t got discerning taste in dance partners.”

Billy’s cheeks grew red. “You joking?”

“Nope, I’d wager the fellas here would be cool with any kind of entertainment right now. How about it fellas?”

Agreement all around. Near a dozen bikers and another dozen of the park’s grungiest set eyes on Billy. A few cracked knuckles, others gave brown or toothless smiles. One of the larger bikers, an old-timer with a devil’s head tattooed on his face, unclipped the heavy duty Maglite from his belt. Let it slap against his calloused palm a few times. “Yah heard the man. Unless yah want I should see how deep I can get this bad boy past your dirt button.”

Billy looked over to Eric. A strained ‘help me’ in his eyes. Eric sighed and lifted a hand. “Look, Earl. I’m sure I can scrounge up the cash …”

Earl reached into the waistband of his homemade shorts and pulled his M1911 out to breathe. He pointed it between Eric’s eyes. “Listen. I get your loyalty to this cousin-fucker, but you boys thought low enough of my lady that you’d think she’d bang a donkey? Nah, that right there tears it.” He motioned to Billy with the business end of the gun. “Now your boy is gonna do exactly what he thought Vicki would — to completion — whether we like it or not.” The gun swung back to Eric. “If not, you’ll be up to plate.”

“Jesus, Earl, I thought we were cool.” Eric watched the barrel of the gun—kept an eye on Earl’s finger as it flirted with sliding near the trigger.

Earl nodded. “Well, it’s not like I don’t like you. You can scrap and drink. Never really done me harm. Still, you’re wrapped up in this bullshit. Maybe not as bad as dick-head over there, but you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Eric looked down at his own feet.

“So, get started,” roared the Maglite man.

Billy turned and walked behind Jack. Dropped trou, grabbed his limp dick, and stared at the donkey’s backside. “I got no idea where I’m supposed to stick it.”

Jack snorted.

The crowd erupted into laughter.

“Where you might fit, Uncle Father.” Earl aimed the gun at Billy’s pecker. “Unless you’re looking for a sex change.”
Billy took an uneasy step forward. Reached forward and brushed Jack’s tail aside. “Oh lord, dear god, please,” he whispered as he edged closer. He leaned his hips forward, closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. “It smells.”

He dry-heaved.

“Atta boy.” Maglite’s eyes were lit up like Christmas.

“Fucking hell.” Eric covered his eyes.

Earl batted Eric’s fingers with the M1911. “You watch.”

Eric opened his eyes. Watched Billy lean further in. Eyed the M1911 now resting on his temple.

“I said to watch,” Earl growled between rotted teeth.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eric’s hands shot up. “Be easy.”

Billy groaned. “Oh god, we’re touching. Aw, no…”

Jack brayed and stomped a foot. She threw her head back and let out an agitated snort.

“Easy, girl,” Billy whispered. “We’ll be done in a sec, let me …”

Jack brayed again and kicked back at Billy. Sent him sprawling back with a crack and thud. The noise provoked her and she went into frenzy, rocking back and forth—kicking and biting at the air. Maglite even caught a kick to the leg as he guffawed like an idiot. He dropped down to the ground with a scream; his leg bent 90 degrees to the left.

Earl smiled. “This just got good.”

Jack kept at it. Kicked through the wall, through a window—took out the TV. The guests scattered. Some went outside laughing while others retreated behind the counter. A bigger fella scooped Maglite up and helped him out the front door.
Earl was too busy laughing. Lowered his gun, near busted a gut as Jack made Eric’s double wide into a wreck. He shook his head, holstered the piece, and walked out. “Gonna check on my lady. Make yourselves scarce the next few days, assholes.”

Jack calmed down. Wandered back into Eric’s bedroom.

Eric took the opportunity to get over to Billy. “You okay?”

Billy groaned. “Fuck’s sake, Eric. I think she broke my dick. Can’t feel nothing.”

“Can’t break your dick. She probably messed you up something bad, though.”

His eyes widened. “I need a doctor.”

He dug into his pockets. Handed his phone to Billy. “Call nine-one-one.”

Billy shook his head. “Not yet. We gotta get Jack outta here. Need to do that fast, because I don’t think I should be swollen like this.”

Eric looked down. Billy looked like he was smuggling a pumpkin under his stomach. “Shit. That doesn’t look good.”

“No…it don’t.”

Eric rubbed his head. “I got something.” He ran over to the kitchen. Found some beef jerky. He unwrapped it and turned to the now calmed Jack. “Hey girl, you hungry?”

Jack responded with a snort and wandered over.

Eric led her towards the broken door. “Billy. I’m gonna get our friend here over to Earl’s trailer. Do me a solid and call the Stop N’ Sip over on Wilmington. Tell the girl we found out that Earl stole her ma’s donkey.”

“This is their donkey?”

“Focus, Billy.”

“Alright …” Billy looked around. Found an unopened beer near him and popped it open. Took a long sip. Sighed. “Will do.”

“After you do that, call the ambulance before your dick falls off or something.”

“What about Earl and Vicki?”

“What about them?”

“You gonna throw them under the bus like that?”

Eric looked out his window. He could see Vicki’s silhouette as she smoked a Virginia Slim. They fucked up. Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea to keep poking this hornet’s nest.

“Fuck it, you’re right. A rarity, but it’s true. Toss me my phone.”

Billy tossed the phone over. ‘What about my ambulance?”

Eric narrowed his eyes. All of this was Billy’s doing. He could stand to deal with the result a little longer. “Wait for me or ask one of the assholes milling around my lawn to help. Get some ice on that shit, though.” Eric grabbed Jack’s leash and led her to the car. Reached into his pocket and found the receipt paper from the Stop N Sip. Dialed the number on his phone. Two rings and someone picked up. “Hello, Rose? Hi, I think I might have found your donkey.”


Eric pulled up to the Stop N Sip. The cashier from earlier stood in the empty parking lot next to a flatbed. She waved with a smile.

He came out of the car and lured Jack out with the last bit of jerky. “Found her on the side of the road a few miles back.”

“Sounds like her.” She reached into her back pocket and fished out an envelope. “It ain’t much, but my ma wanted me to show her appreciation.”

Eric took the envelope. Extra cash would help get the double-wide cleaned up. “Happy to help.” He got back into the car. “Question,” he called out through his window.


He grinned. “How about I take you out to eat sometime? You like Waffle House?”

She blinked. “Sure.”

“Great. Pick you up tomorrow right here?”

“Okay.” She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Walked to the window and leaned over — offered a hand. “I’m Cathy.”

He nodded. Took her hand in his. “Eric.”


Angel Luis Colón has landed ass first into crime fiction and is taking a shine to it. His fiction has appeared in Shotgun Honey, Revolt Daily and Out of the Gutter along with print journals like Thuglit and All Due Respect. Angel has also been awarded grand prize at the First Annual AJ Hayes Writing Contest. He hails from the Bronx and works in NYC, but is exiled to the wastelands of New Jersey working on his first novel, Hell Chose Me. You can follow his grumblings on Twitter @GoshDarnMyLife or be audience to his useless ranting over at

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