Saturday, June 13, 2020

Short Story Saturday: Alabama Dog Rot: A Creepy-Colin Escapade by Guest Author Paul Skelton





Alabama Dog Rot

(A Creepy-Colin Escapade) 
by Paul Skelton


   Desperate Dan (otherwise known as Daniel Eastwood) worked at Lather & Sons timber yard. He drove a bright red Ford Ranger and lived opposite the Gilby family, where sixteen-year-old Creepy-Colin lived. Colin had recently had his first sexual encounter with a neighbour, seventeen-year-old Jessica Wilson, and was now developing an unhealthy crush on thirty-five-year-old Janette Simpson, Desperate Dan’s live-in girlfriend. Colin employed various surveillance devices to witness her more private moments, when opportunity allowed. Opportunities were somewhat limited, as Colin was an apprentice at Lather's, and he was driven to work each day by Desperate Dan. His only opportunities occurred when Desperate Dan went to the pub and came home late at night, and Janette would (whilst he was out) perform her pampering activities, which, among other things, included shaving some very personal areas.

* * *

   'Gonna be away this weekend, Col'. I'm goin' to see a dog from a breeder down near the New Forest,' Desperate Dan confided on their way to the timber yard one morning. 'If you fancy earning some extra cash, I've got some gardening jobs 'round my place want doin' while I'm gone.'
   'Gardening’s not my thing, Mr. Eastwood.'
   'Okay, son, that's a shame. Janette can probably manage on her own, anyway.'
  Creepy-Colin had imagined Desperate Dan and Janette would be away for the weekend together. The fact that he had been mistaken in this assumption changed the incentives considerably. Creepy-Colin’s interest was now aroused, in more ways than one.
   'B-b-but, I could do with some extra cash actually, Mr. Eastwood, and if Janette’s there, she would be able to show me what wants doing and how to do it.' Colin then blushed, his pimple-ridden, oily skin became clammy and sweaty. 'I-I-I don't mean it,' (he did), 'I mean the work, er, the jobs, I mean.'
   'Hahaha, you crack me up, Colin, you really do. Hah hah. Yeh, she'll give you a hand.'
   WOW! thought Colin.
   'And I'll pay you thirty quid. There's a lawn to mow and a bit of hedge trimming,'
  'Trimming?' Colin nearly flipped, mentally picturing Janettes electric shaver in action.
   'And the weeds need a good seeing to.'
  Creepy-Colin needed “seeing to”, and when they reached the timber yard, he leapt from the Ford Ranger and made a dash for the Lather’s trade counter building where the toilets were situated.
   'You okay, son?' Desperate Dan called out as Colin sprinted across the yard to the toilets to deal with an uncomfortable problem, requiring instant gratification.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin saw Desperate Dan drive off at seven o'clock the following Saturday morning, and he decided to call on Janette a good half an hour earlier than planned.
   It's the early bird that catches the worm. He thought to himself, sniggering as he drenched himself in his Father’s favourite Diesel aftershave.
   Janette Simpson opened the door to Colin, clad in a short pink silk robe, which left little to the imagination. Creepy-Colin drooled.
   'Oh! Hi, Colin, you're early. Keen to get down to it, are you?'
   'Oh, God, yeh . . . ' He gulped, his eyes bulging. 'I mean, er, the gardening. Yeh, I like to make an early start.'
   'I'm impressed, Colin.' She smiled. 'I haven't showered yet, and I need to make myself decent, I do apologise.'
   Don't apologise. Thought Colin.
   'So, why don't you go through and fix us both a nice coffee while I get ready? The coffee’s in the percolator, the mugs are on the drainer, and, oh, there's some cream in the fridge.'
   Cream? Oh God! Colin thought, his head swimming, catching a glimpse of naked breast and nipple as Janette turned to go upstairs. Following her through the house, Creepy-Colin got another eyeful, “upskirt”, as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

   Janette sat down to her coffee, dressed in tight-fitting shorts and a loose, plaid shirt tied into a bow 'round her midriff. When they had finished the coffee, they set about the various tasks. Colin made much of “needing help” in order to be close to her as often as possible and peek down her open-necked shirt, noting that, on this hot day, Janette was bra-less. Colin worked hard though, mainly to impress Janette. They chatted amiably throughout the day, Colin trying to fit in as many compliments as possible, and Janette revealing that she may move out to get her own place soon, as she didn't want to share the house with a dog. She thought she would carry on seeing Desperate Dan but didn't imagine the relationship “going anywhere”. Eventually, the work was done, and Janette suggested that Creepy-Colin should take a shower before he went home.
   Colin undressed and stepped into the shower, hoping against hope . . .
   'You don't mind sharing, do you?' Janette purred as she slithered, naked, against Colin’s wet body in the hot shower.
   The fantasy ended abruptly when he heard Janette asking, 'have you come yet', and giggling from just outside of the door. He realised that she had been spying on him and what he was doing in the shower.
   She entered the bathroom fully clothed.
   'Sorry, Colin, I couldn't resist.' She sniggered. 'It's just that you've been so obvious all day. Really creepy, with those compliments, y'know? Bit pervy, Colin. Now hurry up, sort yourself out and get decent. I'm going out.'
   Creepy-Colin got decent and went home, deflated.

* * *

   Next day, Sunday, Colin got a call from Desperate Dan at around three in the afternoon, asking him to come over to collect his thirty pounds.
   'Ah, come in, Colin, and meet Lola.' Dan was beaming as they walked through to the kitchen where a grey and white puppy sat dozily on a dog blanket, 'There's Lola. She's half Greyhound, half Bearded Collie, only eleven weeks old. What do you think?'
   'Nice, Mr. Eastwood. She's a Lurcher then?'
   'That's right, Colin, she's a rough-coated Brindle dog. You know a bit about dogs then?'
   'Yeh, a bit. How much did you pay for her?'
   'Eh, don't worry. Here's your thirty quid.' Desperate Dan winked and handed over the cash. 'If you must know, I paid a hundred and fifty, not bad, eh?'
   'She's got some nasty sores, Mr. Eastwood.' Creepy-Colin was inspecting the dog closely.
   'Yeh, the breeder gave me some cream for those; look.' Dan picked up a jar from the Formica kitchen table and handed it to Colin who studied it meticulously. Colin then got his smartphone out and started browsing the internet.
   'What is it, Col'?' asked Dan.
   'Hang on a mo' . . . , she's very quiet, looks knackered. Has she vomited at all?'
   'Well, yeh she's tired, it was a long trip for her cooped up in my cab. She did puke a bit when we got back, probably travel-sickness.'
   'Appetite? Is she eating?'
   'Well, I put a bowl of food for her out as soon as we got back. She hasn't touched it yet, but . . .'
   'Alabama Dog Rot!'
   'Alabama what rot? Dog rot?'
   'Yep, reckon so,' Creepy-Colin said confidently. 'There's been no real clinical research, but the first cases affected Greyhounds in Alabama U.S.A. in the eighties. In the UK there's been about a hundred cases, most of them around the New Forest. The disease attacks the blood vessels, the kidneys, and affects renal movement. It's hard to treat and almost always fatal. Look, Mr. Eastwood.'
   Desperate Dan looked at the screen on Colin's smartphone, and he went deathly pale. He gulped a few times and then started ranting.
   'Right, I'll get her to a vet tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm getting onto that bloody breeder. I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im!'
   'No time for that, we've gotta act fast, Mr. Eastwood. If she's vomiting and not eating, it's advanced. The skin sores are already breaking. She's literally rotting away.'
   'What can we do, Colin?' Dan wailed and then started sobbing.
   'Not sure, but you stay here, have a drink or something. I'm off to get some stuff I've got, might help slow it down. Then tomorrow you can get down the vet's.'
   Creepy-Colin dashed home, and once in his room, started fetching bottles of various liquids from under his bed. He then started mixing them together, carefully examining the results each time he added something to the concoction. Finally, he filled some syringes with the formula and rushed back to Desperate Dan.

* * *

   Dan didn't show up at work for the next five days, he was taking some unpaid leave to attend to Lola. The following Saturday, Creepy-Colin was supping a pint of Coors that Desperate Dan had bought for him at the Rose and Crown public house.
   'Cheers, Col.' Dan raised his glass of Newcastle Brown. 'Yep, thanks to you, mate, Lola’s okay. The vet didn't have a scooby-doo, just offered me more skin cream. So I got her home and hoped for the best. I did administer another injection, as you suggested. Now, she's eating me out of house and home, and energy? Blimey, I've never known a dog like it. You should see how fast she can run when I take her down the park.'
   'She's grown a lot, hasn't she?' Colin was stroking Lola under the pub table.
   'Yeh, you wouldn't believe it's the same dog, would you? Drink up, Colin, I'll get you another.'
   After two more drinks they left the pub, and Lola, loping beside them, was now the size of a mature Great Dane. She stood thirty inches in height and weighed in at nearly one hundred and sixty pounds. Desperate Dan should have been worried.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin didn't fire up his computer to spy on Janette Simpson that night, as he knew she had moved out. He would miss her. He got ready for bed and settled down to look up breeds of dog, in particular, larger breeds. He was concerned by Lola’s sudden growth spurt, even if Daniel Eastwood wasn't. Then his mobile rang.
   'Hello?'
   'Hi, Colin, it's Janette. Look, I know it's late, but I want to apologise for making fun of you last weekend. I want to make it up to you. I've got my own flat, now, all to myself, and I'm home alone wearing my silk robe, the one you saw me in last week. Nothing underneath, Colin.' She spoke softly and sensuously. 'Come over, babe, and do a bit of gardening with me, yeh?'
   Colin stared at his phone, open-mouthed, instantly getting a hard-on, and momentarily couldn't think what to say. Then he decided to follow his instincts.   'What kind of fool do you take me for, Janette? You can't do gardening in a flat.  There's no garden. I wasn't born yesterday. Huh!' And with that, he terminated the call without waiting for an answer. Then he turned his phone off.
   Janette stared at her phone and threw it across the room in temper. Then she slid out of her robe, feeling rejected, and resorted to pleasuring herself. She was too far away from Desperate Dan’s house to hear the howling and screaming. But Creepy-Colin wasn't, and on hearing the commotion, he peeked outside. He saw Lola on Desperate Dan’s front lawn tearing him to pieces, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Creepy Colin wasn't the only neighbour dialing “999” at that point.
   Lola’s body lay dead on the front lawn, and to Colin, looked even bigger than he noticed at the pub earlier. The hide had large slits and splits in it, as if the animal had literally grown faster on the inside than the skin on the outside could keep up with. It had taken several gunshots from the Police vet before Lola went down, and Paramedics arrived to retrieve what was left of Desperate Dan.
   'You Colin Gilby?' the Police Constable asked, and Colin nodded in affirmation. 'And you work with Mr. Eastwood, I believe. Do you know anything about his dog?'
   'Bought Lola a few days ago in the New Forest. She got sick, and he took it to the vet. Alabama Dog Rot, I think. They gave him some cream.' Colin shrugged.' That's all I know.'
   'Thanks, son, never heard of Alabama Dog Rot. Vet should know what it is.'

* * *

THE END

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