This morning I woke up and Benji the dog was dead. I knew it the moment I opened my eyes, though of course I couldn’t be sure. I padded downstairs in my boxers and robe and opened the front door. There on the patio was Benji, on his side, in a pile of dry leaves. His small shape was startlingly well-defined against the leaves, almost as if there were a light shining behind him, but of course there wasn’t. Benji was fifteen years old when he died, which is like a million dog years I’m pretty sure. I went back inside and made some tea.

            Sitting at my kitchen facing the back window, the sun streamed across my face and across my spoon and across my cup in my hand. It made sharply defined shadows on the wall behind me as I drank my tea and watched the leaves dance in the wind. I slowly woke up: It was Sunday. Dog was dead. Laundry needed to be done. Kevin was going to call. I needed to be fed.

            One cheese, ham and tomato omelet and two pop-tarts later I was feeling ready to face the day. Who knew what surprises would be in store? Benji was just the beginning of the day, I felt, and it could only go up from here. The phone rang.

            “Kevin,” I said. It could only be him.

            “Hey man.”

            “Awake?”

            “Yeah, you?”

            “Uh huh. You coming over?”

            “Yeah. I’ll come around in a few minutes.”

            “Alright,” I said. “Just knock.”

            It would be a quiet day. I put the laundry in the washing machine and put away my dirty dishes from breakfast. Kevin was coming over to pass some time and relax; we were in the middle of a number of projects. First, we were painting my closet, just for fun. We had scrounged a number of different colors (we had black, blue, and yellow) and were going for a collaborative mural (it looked stupid so far). Second, we might work on the wagon. It had been our most ambitious project, though it was now sitting in my garage. Somewhere along the line, one of us had gotten the idea of building a four-wheeled wagon out of an old desk and the two broken bicycles we had between us. We’d spent more than a few nights in my garage chopping up the desk, nailing together pieces of wood, coming up with ingenious solutions for unforeseen problems, and starting to put the wheels on. It was almost done.

            Kevin knocked fifteen minutes later. I saw him through the window – he was wearing a silly looking ski cap with a tassel on top and a striped blue and yellow long-sleeve shirt from FUBU. I could tell by his clothes what kind of Kevin he’d be today.

            “Hey dude,” was what he said as I let him in. “Boy have I got a story for you.”

            Yes, it would be talkative Kevin today. That was fun. He didn’t literally have a split personality, but everyone knew that Kevin alternated between two distinct moods. Sometimes he would wear sweatpants and a white t-shirt and speak in monosyllabic, one-word answers. That was quiet Kevin. He could be decent in short doses, but it did get on my nerves eventually. Then there was talkative Kevin, characterized by his funny clothing and hyperkinetic stories. Talkative Kevin came out at the strangest moments, like that one Halloween day when he came over to my house in a cheese costume. Honest to god – he just walked up to the door in a big yellow plastic piece of cheese, with a cheese hat on his head. When he walked in today though, he didn’t see Benji.

            “So here’s what happened last night,” he was saying, as my thoughts once again turned to my dog.

            “You hungry?” I cut him off.

            “Sure,” he said. We walked to the kitchen.

            “I was in Starbucks. I was sitting on a couch drinking a hot apple cider. I looked up, and I’m not sure why I looked up but I did, and she walked in.”

            Poor Benji. You never hurt a soul. You never cared about those other bitches.

            “Want some Mac-cheese?”

            “Sure. So I played it real smooth. I took another sip of my cider, and she walked right past me, but she’d seen me look, and she kind of swaggered her ass a little as she walked by.”

            “She swaggered her ass?”

            “Yeah, you know what I mean.”

            “Actually I have no idea.”

            Benji, there’ll be no more leftovers for you. Just that great big bone in the sky, I suppose.

            “Whatever. The macaroni done?”

            “Of course not.”

            “Well anyway, she orders a drink. And guess what she orders?”

            “Hot apple cider?”

            “Yes. Hot apple cider. She receives her drink and walks right up to my table and asks if it’s taken. There is an open table right next to us, but I say of course not, and she sits down.”

            “Do you realize you’ve switched tenses?” I asked. “You started your story in the past, and now you’re telling it in the present.”

            “Well, which would you prefer?”

            The past.

            “Whatever.” The microwave beeped. I served the macaroni.

            “So anyway,” he continued, “she asks, ‘what are you drinking?’ and I say, ‘A rum and coke,’ and she looks all surprised and goes, ‘Starbucks serves alcohol now?’ and I go, ‘wait, this is Starbucks? Then what am I drinking?’ feigning distress. The ice is broken and she takes my cup and sniffs. She says, ‘you got the same as me,’ and you know man, here I could have said something like, ‘no, you got the same as me’ but you know what, I had this intuition like she was tired of the coy flirting already, and it turned out I was right. We got a little serious and chatted for a bit, sipping our ciders, and she told me she was on her way to a party. I told her that I’d been waiting for a friend to call who never called, and I ended up getting in this girl’s car and going to her party.”

            “What’s her name?” I cut in.

            “Kara,” Kevin said. “Kara something. She’s about our age, she’s tall and thin, and she has amazing legs. She’s pretty, too. I don’t know man, I think I’m kind of smitten, but just wait till you hear the rest of the story.”

            For you, Benji, the story is over. But where shall you be buried?

            “So we get to this friend’s house, and it’s a pretty chill party. About thirty people are in there, playing games, dancing, drinking, eating, I don’t really know what the occasion was, but Kara knew everyone man, it was kind of cool. She took me around the party and showed me all the interesting people, ignored all the losers.”

Under your dog house? Would that work? You always protected me…

“That girl, man like what you don’t understand is that girl is in charge. She knows exactly what she wants, and she gets what she wants. You don’t argue is what I’m saying. It’s attractive, if you ask me. I’m so tired of girls being unable to decide what to eat for dinner…”

            “I know exactly what you’re saying.”

            “Well we drank, you know, and it was a great party. We talked a lot, got to know each other better, and I even mentioned you. But she was the life of the whole thing man, like everybody knew that it really only started when she got there. I felt like the male escort on her arm, and it was kind of nice.”

            “Nice?”

            “Yeah. She told me what to do, and I just did it. No questions. I got laid, too.”

            “Yeah well, I’d kind of figured that out by now.”

            “Well I just wanted to make it clear.”

            “And?”

            “And… she has blue hair.”

            “Really? That’s hot!”

            “I know. I can’t get over it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

            “Well,” I said. I felt the story begin to peter out. “You want to go work on the wagon?”

            “You don’t understand,” he said.

            No, that’s true. I don’t understand.

            “She’s here now.”

            “What? What are you talking about?”

            And then in she walked. No joke. How did she get in? When did this happen? I felt like I had missed some crucial aspect of Kevin’s monologue while I was thinking about my dog. Her presence just didn’t fit in with the world I knew.

            “Hello,” she said simply. I took an involuntary step backwards.

She really did have blue hair; it was bright blue with a hint of green. There was something about her face, though, that really put me off. She was conventionally pretty, no doubt about that, but I don’t know how Kevin didn’t see it – she had an ugliness in her eyes – something evil lurked right there, waiting to get out.

            Benji? Kevin picked up a large kitchen knife.

            “What the hell is going on?” I asked, panicked.

            “You just don’t get it,” he said, as he advanced towards me.

            Benji?

            Then Kevin smiled and put the knife back. I hadn’t the faintest idea what was happening. There was a strange woman standing in my kitchen, my dog was dead, and my best friend had threatened me with a knife. I sat down, well, I collapsed, actually.       

“What?” I managed to stutter.

            “Sorry man,” Kevin chuckled. Chuckled! He never chuckles. “It was a joke. She thought it would be funny.”

            “You are strange,” I said, looking straight into those disturbing blue-gray eyes. She winked.

            Kara, who are you? I felt as if my morning had been flipped upside-down. My heart was pounding. How did you get in to the house? Why are you still staring at me with that slight grin on your scary face? You seduced my friend! Benji!

What actually came out was, “This is too much. You two want to get high?” I know, it wasn’t the smoothest reaction, but I suppose it was better than freaking out. I almost freaked out. Instead I fished around in my pocket and found a lighter and a joint.

“Come on.” We sat outside on my porch and I smoked. Kevin looked like he wanted some, but Kara said she didn’t, and I suppose that settled the matter for him. That is how, minutes later, we returned to the kitchen and things were all better. Kevin looked wistful for a second back there, and I mumbled something to him about being whipped. Properly anesthetized, the morning was shaping up.

I was all set to veg out and eat more, but Kara had other ideas.

“Come on, boys,” she said, “let’s go.” I was surprised, and I couldn’t think why, but then I remembered.

“Wait!” I exclaimed, proud of myself. I laughed and then took control again. Holding up my finger in the air as if to punctuate my previous exclamation, I continued, “You can’t tell us to go until you tell me why you’re here in the first place!”

“I came with Kevin,” she said, as if that explained everything. I looked at him and he nodded.

“Then, why didn’t you come in with him?” She looked straight at me for several uncomfortable seconds.

“Do you know that your dog is dead?” What a way to change the subject.

Benji – I’ll miss you, buddy.

Kara and Kevin took me by either arm and led me towards the door. I guessed I’d been spacing out for a second. I could feel her warm skin pressing against my right arm – I couldn’t feel anything at all except my right forearm during that walk to the door. Then we were outside and stopped. I looked down and right. Benji was gone.

“I was going to bury him under the doghouse,” I mumbled.

“Come on,” Kara said, and dragged me forward. Kevin just shrugged his shoulders and walked in front of us. I was suddenly feeling very happy, relaxed. Of course it was the pot, but I was content. I sat in the back of the Honda with Kevin and Kara up front.

“Where are we going?”

“To bury your dog, of course.” That girl knew everything! I sat back, satisfied, and watched the scenery slide by. At one point I rolled down my window a little bit. I heard a dog bark and I could swear it was Benji come back, but of course it couldn’t be.

Buddy, I’ll never forget the way you followed me whenever I left the house, like you were protecting me and not the other way around.

He was just a dog. A dog. I don’t even particularly like dogs, but Benji was the best dog I ever knew. I never talked to him; I never personified him like most people do. He was just Benji. At that moment I could swear that I heard his labored breathing to my left; for the last few years he’d been wheezing. Of course he wasn’t on the seat next to me. He was just a dog, so why were my eyes wet?

“He’s in the trunk.” Kara cut in on my thoughts with perfect impunity. That girl knew everything!

“My dog’s in the trunk?” I noticed Kevin hadn’t said anything in a while and I wondered if he’d reverted to quiet Kevin. The silly hat was gone, so I assumed he had.

“Yes,” she said. I thought about it for a while. As I thought, the idea of a dog in the trunk just seemed more and more natural. I started chuckling and nodding.

“Yeah, ok.” We’re going to bury you, boy.

The car rolled to a stop. We were on gravel. Kevin stepped out and stretched his legs, and Kara actually walked around to my side and opened the door. I got out and looked around. I met Kara’s eyes, closer this time than before, and was scared at what I saw. Then I looked around again. We were standing at the bottom of a large hill in a very secluded area of the town’s nature preserve. I’d been there a million times: this was the hangout spot of my youth. Kevin and Kara each had a shovel in hand, but I had nothing. The trunk was open.

That is how I found myself with my dead dog cradled in my arms, trudging up the Hill, high. He was lighter than I could have ever imagined, he was cold, and he didn’t move at all. I felt removed from the situation, so that it took me a minute to notice the tears rolling down my cheeks. Then we reached the top. An immense sadness crushed me like a weight, and I sat down where I was. I put my head in Benji’s fur. I was feeling kind of dizzy, and I started to lie down, and then I realized something. I looked up at the blue haired girl.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. “What are you doing?” louder. I stood up, Benji still in my arms.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” I screamed, “WHO ARE YOU?”

Maybe I was losing it. Maybe it was the pot. Or maybe, just maybe, something was completely fucking wrong, and this strange woman was at fault. I tensed, bent my legs and sprang at the blue-haired girl.

Sorry Benji – this was my last thought before the three of us – Kara, dead dog and I – rolled down the Hill.

 

When I opened my eyes I was looking at the blue-haired girl’s ass. Believe it or not, even after rolling halfway down a grassy hill, it was swaggering. Now I understood what Kevin had meant. Unfortunately, they were walking away to the car, and I was sprawled on the ground. I watched them get in the car and peel away without saying a single word, for I found myself unable to talk. Perhaps my last outburst had used up some sort of quota…

I found Benji a fair distance away and picked him up once more. He was a little worse for wear, and now I noticed that he was starting to smell. He needed to be buried. It was all I could think about.

I’ll put you to rest, Benji. You can count on that.

And it wouldn’t be on the hill, either, trampled every night by drunk teenagers. It was a long, slow walk back to my house. I trudged up one street and down another, head spinning. I passed a middle-aged and dirty man yelling at a younger woman in a natty bathrobe. I passed a red corvette parked at a strange angle under a stop-sign, both right wheels blown. I passed a family of crows in a tall tree – their calls chased me for blocks. I walked home from the park, dead dog in hand, as if I were performing some last duty, making some last trip, fulfilling some final prophecy. I felt myself under the intense scrutiny of everyone I passed. Strangely enough, when I finally arrived at my door I was completely lucid. It was as if an intense struggle had ended – I felt the relief that only comes when one knows exactly what one must now do. I got my shovel from the garage and went out to the doghouse.

In this sober lucidity I saw my every action unfold as if inevitable – and when the rain started falling, gently, I saw each individual drop as an inevitable tear for Benji. I dug the grave effortlessly, deeper than I thought it had to be, right under Benji’s old doghouse.

You won’t need that now.

Examining Benji’s rancid carcass one last time before I was to consign him to the earth forever, I noticed a strange mark on his side, facing me, which I’d never seen before. I jumped down there, down into his hole (which, after all, wasn’t terribly large, so that I was all but on top of him), and examined the mark more closely. It was a deep gouge on his side by something sharp in the shape of an X. It surely hadn’t happened to him during life, nor by accident, and I hadn’t noticed it that morning, so most likely… It was Kara.

Now you understand why I threw you at the blue-haired girl, dog. This is more personal than we thought.

I stood and dripped as the rain increased and my dog got wet. I took off my shirt which was soaking anyway and wrapped Benji, almost as an afterthought. Then I shoveled the dirt back on top of him. Somehow this evil woman was involving herself in my life for some purpose; the mark showed that. Obviously, the purpose was not nice. Also, she’d utterly seduced Kevin. He’d walked away from the hill without even looking back once, like a zombie!

Goodbye, Benji.

And then it hit me. Somehow, everything had to do with the hair – that enticing and sexy blue hair. Why did she have blue hair? She was already seductive enough. Why did she want to call extra attention to herself like that? It must be, I decided eventually, that normal men could not think past it. That is to say, any signs of inherent evilness were obscured, if not by the swaggering ass (and other such things) than for sure by the blue hair. As a camouflage, it worked wonders. And then: poor Kevin – completely taken in. I had to warn him. I had to warn him to save our friendship, of course, but I also had to do it for Benji: For revenge. For there are some things that I will not stand, and mutilation of my dead, though I did not know it until that day, is one.

Kevin was not surprised to see me. I ran to his house where I found him on his couch, lights off, staring at the snow on his TV. He was wearing his old sweatpants and a stained white t-shirt. He had a reserved, maybe even angry stare. He glanced up when I let myself in and then returned his gaze to the TV. The evil woman must have left him alone with nothing to do until she chose to show up next.

First I flicked on the lights, and then off went the TV. This was no time for distractions, but what to say? It was a delicate situation. Kevin was very obviously in his less talkative mood-state and most definitely would not be open to deep conversations. I almost resigned myself to an uncomfortable and probably fruitless one-sided discussion of blue-haired seductresses when I saw another way out. Imagine Kevin’s surprise, then, when I transitioned smoothly from standing over him hesitantly into attack mode. I just bent down, lifted his (admittedly stronger and bigger) body, and threw it on the rug between TV and couch. Before he could even react, I pounced.

Our wrestling lasted for quite a while. I’d had the element of surprise, which I used viciously; he was pinned and being pummeled anywhere I could reach before he knew it. I could see no advantage to holding back, for after all this was for his own good. Unfortunately that situation couldn’t last – Kevin worked out every day. He smacked me upside the jaw and flipped around, and it was my turn to be scared. I wriggled out of his grasp and pushed him back against the couch where we grappled on our knees for a moment before again falling down to the floor. Rolling around with punches flying was not fun. I suppose I hadn’t quite known what I was getting into when I’d first picked him up.

Only a short time later we were covered in bruises and sweat and, in my case, blood. Somehow Kevin had managed to split open the skin of my forehead. He was also hurting in various places, I’d like to point out, but he’d obviously gotten the better of me. At that moment I found him sitting on my chest with my forearms pinned under his feet. How that happened was not quite clear to me but I was scared by this outcome. I stared straight at Kevin and he stared back at me. And continued to stare.

Slowly I saw a light start to come back into his eyes – something young and happy. The pressure on my forearms relaxed. In another move that surprised me as much as I’m sure it surprised him, I wiped my hand across my sweaty, bloody forehead and then wiped it across his forehead and down the length of his face. That light grew further, and his mouth showed signs of a smile, and then it came, as a dam breaking, and he burst into laughter. I looked at him and realized that I was laughing just as hard, really laughing at the ludicrous situation, no, at all that was ludicrous in the world. He rolled off and lay on his back next to me and we laughed for a bit more. Then I looked again and he bit his lip and spoke.

“Sorry man, I needed that. Thanks.” I knew that was as good as I would ever get from him, and I was satisfied. He got up and gave me his hand. I’m sure we looked fairly scary then, covered in bruises and blood, him in dirty crappy clothing and me shirtless.

 

And I’m sure you’re thinking two things right now. First, you’re thinking that after the fight we went looking for Kara and somehow exacted our revenge. You probably aren’t sure how that would work, considering her almost supernatural aspect, but you can’t see any other way that this tale could resolve itself.

The other thing you’re probably thinking about is the homoerotic aspect of that fight. You refer to the fact that Kevin was heterosexually seduced by this woman, and that, in a scene rife with man-on-man action (and ending with a fluid exchange), he was cured of his obsession. Further, then, you might think that the fight could well be taken for an analogue of homosexual intercourse – gay sex.

Luckily, you’re wrong on both accounts. I don’t think either of us felt any great discomfort over all that touching, despite any previous homophobic tendencies, and neither of us experienced a sudden realignment of sexual preference. He was cured of the blue-haired girl, but it wasn’t by the power of man-love, friendship, or anything else – I just slapped him around a bit. And we never did see Kara again, either. Once her plan to murder me on top of the hill failed and her lust-blind helper was taken from her, a fact which I’m sure she somehow deduced almost instantaneously, she had no reason to stick around. Kevin later mentioned that he could never find the house where that party was, pretty quickly forgot most of the details concerning that woman, and never heard from her again.

So, in the great tradition of our friendship, I grabbed a frisbee, he collected some tools for the wagon, and we emerged onto the street. As a last measure, Kevin threw on his cheese hat. Sometimes the best way to get even is just to keep doing what you’re doing, blue-haired girls be damned.