Dirge of a maggot dog-
Last you saw me I was holding a stick.
I was holding in my chest.
Well, you would have seen me if you were here. But you were not. Funny thing is you probably don't even know who I am. Man. Woman. A little child with predestined penis envy. Lo, I am but a maggot dog.
The maggot dog tried to wag it's tail, knowing someone was close.
Silly maggot dog. You can't move.
What would you know? You are only a voice in someone's head at least I have a tail.
The pine sap road patches. Sweet smelling smeared on breakfast toast. At least that's what I was told. Told by Stink Toe Joe. He's such an asshole. I really hope he gets hit by a bus.
Fill the fucking hole. He told me.
Fill your fucking hole. I nodded back.
I am not the maggot dog. The maggot dog is in that ditch. I am just another voice. Empty and filled with the smacks and pops of spit stuck to the tongue. I fill the holes in the road like a dentist that part times birthing cattle. I use a shovel. I use some orange cones. I fill the holes when there are holes to fill. There are always holes to fill. Don't expect much more of me.
With that, another shovel of shit scraped out of a big bucket with a yellow stripe held in mid-air by the will of the gods of travel and ass-fault. Ass-fault roads paved with shit. The road maker drops a load in a hole the size of his head. He grunts and slaps his tool down smacking the shitty patty flat.
How's that feel Stick Dick Joe? My life for a nice pair of shoes. Something without so many goddamned laces. I see the dog lying in the ditch. There is an envy I have for that maggot dog. Then I wonder if it was fast, a quick blow to the head, like looking at the face of Chrome God. Or was it a hip-check, just enough to send it back into the ditch, maybe drinking road tea draining down to drink.
Either way it's dead now, more than I can answer to. A solid answer yes or no.
Dead as a shotgun orgasm in the back of my throat answers the maggot dog. I'm sure a maggot dog would say that. You can think about these things a lot when all you do is fill holes for Ass Crack Joe. Big man with a name on your truck.
The two men and their floating barrel of tar drift off into the distance. It is nice being at the curve in a road, it makes it easy to see in two directions without having to turn your head too far. This is good for a maggot dog.