Free Buck Fever by Robert A Rupp Page A

Mandi, come here, you’ve got to see this.”
    A tall blonde woman, wearing tight jeans and a white sweatshirt with “Yes, it’s always about me” embroidered on it, walked into the room. She carried a full martini glass in her left hand and a cigarette in her right.
    “What’s all the fuss? Oh, my Lord, what’s on our new floor?” she said.
    “Jesus, Mandi, you drinking already? It’s not even noon yet. It’s a rubber glove from the basement. I left it in the sink, and he found it.”
    “It has red slime on it. What is it? Not blood, I hope. What’s wrong with that piss-ant dog? God, he can be a whiner.”
    She twisted the cigarette into an ashtray on a nearby lamp table and knelt down to examine the rubber glove while still carrying the drink. Jack Hermanski stood up from his desk chair and leaned over her to stroke the dog.
    “Yuck, it’s got blood goop on it, and he’s got it on his mouth. He’ll get it all over the new furniture. Get a towel and wipe it off.” She reached down and picked up the glove.
    “Hold on, can’t you see he’s upset. I think he’s getting sick.”
    The dog continued to whine, then started to convulse.
    “Oh, no, he’s going to throw up. Get him out to the kitchen, now! Stomach acid will eat into the floor and cause a stain,” Mandi pleaded.
    Jack reached to pick up the dog. Its front and hind legs quivered and straightened forcing the dog to jump suddenly. Surprised, Mandi jerked her left hand forward, slamming the martini glass into Jack’s forehead. The dog snarled violently, grabbed the rubber glove from Mandi’s right hand and ran toward the kitchen.
    “Oh, my God, you’re cut. I’ve cut you!” she shrieked. “You’re bleeding. Get into the kitchen. You’re getting blood on the rug. I can’t believe this is happening.”
    Stunned, Jack stood up and groped his face.
    “Jesus...mother...I can’t see. Argh. There’s glass stuck in my head.” He wiped the flowing blood from his eyes and pulled a shard from his right temple. “You got to get me to a hospital. This is going to need stitches.”
    “I don’t believe this. Get into the kitchen so we can clean up the blood. Where is that damn dog?” She led Jack to the kitchen sink and handed him a wet towel. He dabbed his face, as she surveyed the cut. “Doesn’t look bad, really. Just a small gash above your right eyebrow. This is what you get for leaving your hunting stuff out where the dog can get it. I don’t know why you insist on going hunting anyway. You don’t even like deer meat. You always end up giving it all away, or I eat it.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks for your kind concern. Hey, did you open the patio door? I think the dog’s out,” he said, glancing around the yard for the dog. “Now where the hell did he go? I hope he’s okay.”
    “Never mind the dog. Help me clean up the mess in the den.”
    ~ ~ ~
    Jack looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. A strip of tape with gauze covered his right eyebrow. He changed into a clean blue cotton shirt. Mandi looked into the mirror from behind him.
    “See, it’s not so bad. My Boopsy is just fine,” she said, hugging him. “Thank God, the blood came out of the rug.”
    “Yeah, thank God. You’re Boopsy almost went blind, but we got the stain out of the rug. Maybe we shouldn’t have bought this house. All you do is worry about the dog getting the furniture or the floors dirty. You never cared at the old house. Life was so much simpler there.”
    “Nonsense, I just never had anything nice when I was growing up. I’ll get over it in a few years. Did you hear something?”
    “What?”
    “Sounded like the patio door sliding open.”
    “What the hell...” A brown fluff of fur passing through the living room caught Jack’s eye in the mirror. He jerked his head around.
    “What now?”
    “I think the dog just came in. I bet one of the neighbor kids opened the back door again.”
    “That boy just wanted to ask you if he could play in