Free Disappearance by Ryan Wiley

would give me some entertainment in a no TV or Wi-Fi connection world.
    After my morning bowl of cereal, I put my bowl in the dishwasher. Sure, I've smashed through this family's window with a shovel, stolen things, and slept on their couch but that doesn't mean I should lose my manners.
    I consider leaving some money on their table. I've never bought a window before but I bet they're expensive. Then I remember how cheap I am, and also that I may run into a human being later whom I need to bribe with cash. Sorry Mrs. Big Panties, pay for your own damn window. Insurance will cover it.
    I begin stuffing every last cereal box and bottle of water I can into their over-sized suitcase and head out the back door. I place the gas tank on top of the suitcase and roll it. This frees up my other hand to carry my shovel and use it as a weapon against Cujo if he intrudes.
    Now I'm ready and I open the backyard fence door. I look around the corner, expecting to see my little furry friend but don't. Once I see he's not there I take off in a light run. I go as fast as one possibly can while dragging a suitcase with a gas tank on top and holding a shovel. It doesn't take long before I get winded. Yesterday, when I first started running, I didn't have a dog chasing me, so I stopped to rest. Today, there's no dog yet but I know he's close - I can feel it. No matter how much pain I'm in, I'm not stopping until I make it home.
    As I look around, it still seems deserted. I try to remember if any of the cars have moved or if anything else looks different. Nothing does, but I decide I don't remember much because I was preoccupied with saving my life. I take a brief look behind me -- still no signs of anything chasing me.
    I only have a couple blocks to go. I'm starting to feel the stitch in my side but I ignore it. I can picture Cujo in my head chasing me; he smells my fear. I have a shovel now so I at least have a fighting chance, but it's a fight I'd rather avoid.
    One block to go. I can see my street sign in the short distance. I might make it! I don't look back anymore for fear of what I might see.
    I turn onto my street, which gives me a shot of adrenaline. I'm at a full sprint now. I've never wanted to be home so much in my entire life. The stitch in my side feels like it's ready to burst open but I ignore it.
    Just as I'm about to enter into my driveway the gas tank topples over, knocking the cap off in the process and spilling gas all over the sidewalk. I grab the tank as fast as I can, trying to save every last ounce of gas.
    I pull up the garage door and drag my belongings into the garage. Then, making one last look back, fully expecting to see Cujo staring at me, I see nothing. Just an empty, quiet street. I pull the garage door down, loving every bit of the pitch-black darkness that ensues. I am safe once again.
     
    I lie on the couch for what has to be a half hour trying to catch my breath. I've never felt more like an unhealthy, lazy piece of shit then I do now. Someone my age should not be huffing and puffing like this after such a short amount of exercise. Fortunately, nobody is here to witness it, so at least I still have my dignity. I wouldn't even want Abby to see me in this state after jogging less than a mile.
    Nevertheless, I'm thankful I didn't see Cujo again. A battle with him would most likely have been a battle to the death. As much as I understand it would be in self-defense, I still can't imagine myself killing a dog with a shovel. It's so barbaric, so evil - even if Cujo is a crazed lunatic of a dog. I imagine myself taking one big swing at him and hearing a poor little whimper as it connects. I'm filled with regret just thinking about it.
    After I catch my breath, I'm tempted to take a nap. I slept poorly last night and it takes everything I can just to stand up. I must get to the department store though. I've learned over the years that when something really needs to get done it's best to get it over with as soon as