A half moon came blazing through clear night skies. Cats were prowling and hounds sang mournfully into almost-darkness. Chickens roosted fitfully and would cry out when they were awakened. A hoot owl perched on a branch nearby, calling, coaxing small creatures from their dens.
Suzanna, a pale sharp-featured woman with black hair, sat on the hood of her truck. It was her night off and she had nothing to do and nowhere to go. She smoked a cigarette, sipping whiskey from a jelly jar. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. A tall silhouette, stumbling, hesitant. “Have you seen my dog Harold?” someone called. Suzanna recognized him as the elderly man, named Honk, who lived down the street. He always sat on his porch with a little black dog by his side.
“Honk! Is that you?” Suzanna inquired.
“Yep - my dog ran off after one of them wild chickens,” replied Honk.
“Come on, then. I’ll help you look for him,” offered Suzanna as she joined him out by the road. A short ways down, they spotted a group of people sitting around a fire.
“Have you all seen a small black dog who answers to the name Harold?” asked Honk.
“I seen a black dog earlier, but I didn’t ask it what it’s name was,” laughed someone.
“Set down and join us,” invited another one. So, they sat down with the group and began listening to them tell outrageous fishing stories and almost-funny jokes. But, just as they got comfortable, an argument broke out between three fellows close by. Pretty soon, it was a fist fight. Then a woman pulled out a pistol and began firing it into the air. Suzanna and Honk decided to get up and get out of there as quickly as they could. By the time the police showed up, all lit up with blue lights, Suzanna and Honk were long gone.
Then, Honk thought he saw Harold behind a nearby house, so they decided to check it out. As they went around the side, they could see a couple of half-naked people through an open window. “Oh my! That’s my Aunt Maud in there!” squealed Suzanna.
“And that’s the mailman!” added Honk. Just then, Aunt Maud spotted them peeking in the window and started screaming obscenities. Then, the mailman picked up a baseball bat and started after them, but they managed to escape.
“I’m going home before that crazy mailman catches up with us,” Honk said.
“Maybe Harold’s come home,” added Suzanna. And, sure enough, Harold sat, waiting patiently, on Honk’s front porch. Suzanna went home, too, wondering what to do next, when the telephone rang.
“Hey! What are you up to?” asked Suzanna’s friend Shellie.
“Not much,” replied Suzanna. “You know how it is around here - just another boring night in the neighborhood!”
