Hairy Jack Talks Smack

Hairy Jack Talks Smack

The sun dipped behind clouds long after Leo awoke from his drunken nap.  Grunting to a sitting position on the edge of the rumpled bed, he scrubbed his face with grubby hands.  A pounding headache and the smell of his own body odor caused him to retch a few times.  Shaking the cobwebs out of his brain only made his thoughts spin and his head throb with stabbing pain.

In the darkness he reached for the goose-neck lamp and flicked it on.  The brightness stung his eyes so he forced the beam of light away.  He groaned when he saw the painting propped against the pea soup-colored wall all aglow with incandescent lighting.  The painting he bought for Robin at the out-of-the way antique shop on Luther Drive only last week-end.  He surprised her with the unusual gift and helped hang it in her apartment. 

But then, she brought it back to him along with anything else he left at her place.  As he recalled her saying, “I’m breaking up with you Leo.  Don’t ever come near me, or I’ll call the police.”

“But, Robin,” he pleaded.  “I love you.  What’s wrong?”

“I think you know,” Robin sneered.  “You keep the painting.  It’ll serve you right.”

She stomped off never looking back, speeding away in her Jetta as if she were late for jury duty.  Leo stood shocked and alone.  Nothing made sense to him.  Leo thought back to what could have gotten her so mad.  Robin always told him what a wonderful guy he was, so thoughtful, smart, with a sense of humor.  Everything she needed.  And, he adored her for her ambition, timeless beauty, and sense of adventure.  Now that she was gone, he drank away his sadness.

Leo couldn’t help but study the painting, searching for answers in the swirl of black and grays that made up the scene of a decrepit cemetery gate.  Both Leo and Robin agreed it evoked questions.  It would make a nice conversation starter; although Robin admitted it all seemed very creepy, as well.

Leo admired the scrolling design on the old wrought-iron gates.  Was there a garden beyond?  What about the church? 

He pushed the twisted bed linens aside and stared at the artwork, still wanting more from the painting.  My first real piece of art.  "Speak to me!"

Leo found a half empty vodka bottle on the bedside table and sank back against the squishy pillows.  He took a couple of short swigs, his eyes staring trancelike at the painting.  When his vision blurred he rubbed his eyes to clear them as the painting clouded with curling blackness.

After another swig from the bottle, his eyes went glassy.  But then something vibrated.  Things rattled as if an earthquake might be taking place.  Leo sat up more erect, spooked by the interruption.  His eyes flashed back to the painting.  Something smoky passed through the churchyard, the scene in the painting changed, panning in and out like an amateur with a video camera.  Crooked headstones dotted a landscape of tree roots and gnarled branches.  The blackness sat in front of a grave stone.  The etched lettering was difficult to read.  Leo crawled to the edge of the bed.  What the hell?

More black smoke plumed out of the painting along with a ghastly sulfur odor causing Leo to gag and cough.  A mammoth thud followed.

“You gonna feed me, or what?”  The voice, monotone and deep, filled the room.

Leo’s head snapped up.  “Huh?”  There stood the ugliest black dog staring back with ebony eyes.

Leo jumped to his feet, struggling to stay upright.  Feeling shock sober, he yelped in a high voice.  “How did you get in here?”

The hound cocked his head toward the painting.  “I’m sick of that place.  What’s to eat?  Or do I just eat you?”  Hound grinned and chuckled.  His rank breath and pointy black teeth lead to Leo scrambling in search of a weapon.  He found a sock and twisted it around his fist.

“Come on.  I haven’t all day.  Food.”  The beast barked.  And then in a forced pleasant voice, “Pretty please.”

“Well…since you said please.”  Leo gathered himself deciding to play along, maybe these were booze hallucinations.  I’m going to AA, tomorrow.  He backed out of the bedroom, the beast following him.

Leo hugged the wall watching the massive beast rambling along filling up the hall with his blackness, his huge paws the size of baseball mitts denting the flooring.  As soon as Leo turned the corner into the kitchen he threw open cabinet doors, searching in vain for dog treats he didn’t have. 

“How about Oreos?  You like Oreos don’t cha?”

“Are you kidding me?”  For a moment the hound reminded Leo of Marmaduke, a cartoon dog. 

“Sure, sure.”  Leo didn’t hesitate to toss a few.  Opening the refrigerator he glanced inside.  “Cheese?  I got cheese.”

“That’s a start.” His wagging tail thumping and reverberating in Leo’s skull. 

Leo lobbed the brick of cheddar to him.  It disappeared into the dark cavern.  His reddish-black tongue smacked his snout. 

“What else ya got?”

Leo’s eyes darted around in panic.  Then he saw the bowl of rotting apples he’d forgotten to eat.  Pitching them one by one at the beast, hoping to wound him, but the beast caught all five, munching them down to mush before swallowing.  Drool on the floor formed a slimy puddle.  Before long he slurped it up with his long tongue.

“More.”  He demanded.

The refrigerator still hung open.  A butcher wrapped steak Leo planned for dinner was the only thing left to offer, besides condiments.  It was thick and red.  He pulled it out and set it on the floor daring to look directly into the beast’s eyes. 

Beast dove on it.  Leo scrambled backward into a corner and trembled at the sounds of slurping and chomping. The beast was done in seconds.  The black tongue slithered out again.  “That’s better.”

Leo pulled his knees up close to his chest.  He had nowhere to go and wished for a knife or a club to beat the monster.  Instead, he tried conversation with the talking animal.

“Who are you?” He detected a whine in his own voice.

“Aw…did I forget my manners?”  The sarcasm was not missed by Leo.  “I’m Hairy Jack and I was buried alive in a cemetery.  Can’t say I enjoyed it.”

He tried to remain calm and let the information sink in.  “That’s unfortunate.  Maybe everyone thought you were dead.” 

“Nope.  I’m a church grim.”  His head swung around and sniffed the air.  “It’s a job I was sacrificed to perform.”

“Why are you here in my house?”  Leo asked, still wondering what the hell a church grim could be.

“I got bored and I heard you calling to me.”  His black eyes fixed on Leo.

“I didn’t call you.”

“Yeah, ya did, so I decided to take a look.  Nice place.”

“Well…I’d like you to leave now.  Go outside.”  Leo attempted to sound brave, but caught his voice crackling.

“It’s cold out and I’m old.  I’ll take the bed.”

“You’re covered in mud, stink, and you are huge.”

“Ok, ok.  I’ll cut you a break and sleep on the rug next to your bed.”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh.  “That’s funny, but I don’t need a pet.”

“Consider this…a steak a day will keep the grim away…from your throat.”  Hairy Jack’s hardy laugh gave rise to shudder from Leo.  A brackish mist drenched the air.

Leo held a sleeved arm up to his nose.  “Anyone ever mention your bad breath?”

“Now, that’s not nice, but yes, numerous times.”  The beast sighed.  “You don’t exactly smell…how should I say this?”  He paused the briefest moment before adding, “Deletable.”

"Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"That's a dumb question.  Do you have any idea how many places I've been hanging in due to the stupid painting?  People came to gawk and yak it up."

Leo raked both hands through his blond shaggy hair. “Why don’t you go back inside the painting?  Back to your job.”

“Change of scenery.  Good for the soul…blah blah blah.”  He sat back on his haunches, his head surpassing the height of the refrigerator.  “By the way, Robin hates you.”

“Robin?  Is she alright?  What did you do to her?”

Leo walked his hands up the wall into a standing position.  He had to get away from Hairy Jack and call Robin.  “I have to leave if you want more food.  I’ll bring back more steak.”

“Hmm…don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you.”  Hairy Jack's ebony eyes flashed fiery red in his direction.  “Get my meaning?”

Leo wondered if he could do that, look for him, but that was another matter, he had to find Robin.  His quivering hand grabbed keys from a hook near the back door, then he dashed out into the chilly air wearing only his South Park flannel pajama bottoms and a dingy yellow t-shirt.

Running helter-skelter to his car in the rain, he tripped and fell three times dialing Robin’s number.  He held his breath when an automated voice told him the line was no longer in use.  He tried again and again, but got the same recording.  Next, he drove to Robin’s apartment.  Her car was not in the parking lot.  What has happened?  He raced up the steps to apartment 3D and pounded with two fists on the door.  He screamed her name, waiting for Robin to appear and be alive, but no one answered.  Frantic now, he went to the next apartment.  When an old gray-haired man answered, Leo asked about Robin, if he'd seen her.

“Oh yes, the nice young lady moved out yesterday.  In quite a hurry, actually.  Left with just a suitcase.”

“Where’d she go?”  Robin worked from home, a freelance writer living by the seat of her pants. 

He shrugged one shoulder.  “Don’t know.  All she said was far away.  Kept muttering about some crazy painting.”

Then it was true, Robin did experience something from the strange painting.  But how did she return the beast to the painting?  He had to find her before it was too late for him.  Maybe I should go to the antique store.  Find the original owner of the painting.  How much time do I have left?  Leo told Hairy Jack he’d be back in an hour and time would soon be up.  Can animals tell time?

He rushed into the nearest food store.  His bare feet, caked with mud, left footprints behind.  Leo bought a few steaks for his new pet looking over his shoulder every step of the way.  As a bonus he grabbed a king-sized rawhide bone and a squeaky squirrel toy. 

Hustling back to his car, Leo hopped in settling the grocery bag on the passenger seat.  His hands were shaking so bad he had difficulty starting the engine.  He exhaled when it finally cranked over and groaned at the flashing engine light.  But then his eye caught the folded piece of paper clipped behind the wiper blade.  He almost ignored it, but instead reached his hand out and grabbed it.  He intended to throw it to the ground, but his name was smeared in familiar handwriting on the front.  Robin! 

His eyes scanned the note with relief.  She scribbled how she'd gottten rid of the hound dog and what he should do.  Leo smiled with joy and then he was sickened by the stench filling the car.

“You’re late, Leo, and I’m hungry.”

Leo screamed like a girl.  “Jeezus…you couldn’t wait a few more minutes?”  He reached into the bag and tossed Hairy Jack the squirrel toy.

“My bad.”  The beast inhaled the toy.  “Let’s go home.” 

“You mean my home.”  Leo pulled out into the traffic and got blasted by car horns.  He didn’t want to waste any more time.

Hairy Jack started coughing and spit up a glob of squirrel stuffing.  “What the hell was that crap?”

“It was a toy, numbskull, to keep you occupied until I got home.”  Leo swerved to avoid hitting a BMW. 

“Where’s the meat?”

“Hold on.  We’re almost there.  And, how did you find me?”

“Easy-peasy.  Your scent.”  The hound snickered and then grunted.

The hound was already at the back door before Leo even got out of the car with the groceries.  How does he do that?  Leo shivered at the imposing sight of the black beast with his paws scratching at his door.  Claw slashes permanently carved into the woodwork that Leo had recently refinished.  Why didn’t he go in the way he came out?

Panting hot breath, Hairy Jack waited in anticipation of another steak.  But, Leo had a new plan now, thanks to Robin’s note.  He'd reward her with a thousand kisses when all was said and done, and even marry her if she came back to him.  They would burn the painting together. 

He dangled the marbled steak forcing the hound to follow him into the bedroom where the painting waited.  Beads of sweat dripped from Leo’s forehead and seeped into his already burning eyes.  He knew he only had one chance to make this work.  “Okay, Hairy Jack.  On the count of three…one, two, three.”

Leo flung the steak at the painting and the beast’s eye followed, but what happened next shocked him.

Instead of going into the painting after the steak, Hairy Jack grabbed his arm between his meaty mitts.  “Fool me once, shame on me.  Fool me twice and in you go.” 

Leo crashed through the painting and hit the ground, tumbling and rolling into a gravestone.  Stunned, he sat up and viewed his new surroundings behind the cemetery gates.

The only sound came from a far-flung howl of the giant black hound and clanging of the rusty gates.  Leo’s frenzied search for the portal only led to frustration.  The eerie scent of ancient earth and dead people made him nauseous.

Real terror struck when he smelled smoke and then the heat of flames.

 

Word Count:  2285