Nine.

Dead Dog Munchies

Junky Jeff blew shotguns too, but it wasn’t the same. He preferred Stumpy, my brother’s dog. He used to do his ferret, but it went insane, bit him, and ran out the front door. Then he did it to Russell’s snake but it just killed her. So he figured he needed something with a bigger brain, and that’s about the time Stumpy came sniffing by.

Stumpy was a mutt, and whether or not his brain was bigger than a ferret’s is debatable. But man did he like to get high. The first time he didn’t want anything to do with it. Jeff had to pin him to the floor while he blew the shotgun. After that he was all in. When he blew the smoke in Stumpy’s face, he would lick at it like ice cream. Jeff gave shotguns straight from the pipe, putting his mouth over the bowl and blowing a stream out the mouthpiece. It looked like the tailpipe of Duke’s tow truck. But it smelled sweet and Stumpy loved it.

Stumpy put his paws on the sofa and stuck his nose in Jeff’s face while he blew thick streams of smoke. Stumpy licked in as long as he could, until he got too stoned. Then he would slowly sink lower and lower until he was lying on the floor. And Jeff would follow him down with the pipe billowing. Stumpy would get so high that he would just lie comatose on the floor. Then, after a few minutes, he would jump up, shake his head and look around like he just saw a ghost. But he couldn’t run yet, so he just shook his head a few more times and slumbered home.

By the time he got to the kitchen door he was a ravenous wolf. Every time Jeff got him high, he would come home and attack his food dish in the kitchen. I could always tell when he was stoned. I could hear him eating from the living room. He would gnash at the food like he hadn’t eaten for years. Sometimes he would choke from eating too fast. It wasn’t a pretty sight either: food flying everywhere, saliva dripping on the Linoleum. And besides that, whenever he was stoned he stood crooked, like the legs on one side were longer than the others. I don’t know why but whenever he got high he always leaned a little to the left.

After a while Stumpy got really stupid. He wasn’t too smart to begin with. He got hit three times trying to cross the street. Once, while we were playing football, my mom drove by with Stumpy. Someone yelled, “Hey Stumpy” and he jumped out the window of the moving car. He didn’t get hurt, but he sure got confused when he hit the ground.

But after he started getting stoned he got really stupid, and pretty fat too. All that smoking and eating caught up to him quickly. Soon all he did was get high, eat, and sleep. Whenever he heard Jeff outside, he would wake up and go lay on Jeff’s feet until he got a hit. Then he would go comatose again. Then he would slumber home, eat all his food, and go back to sleep.

He died soon after that, suffocated eating Doritos. The bag got stuck on his head and either he was too stoned to pull it off, or just too lazy. We found him stiff on the floor the next morning, empty bag still on his head.

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