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"Holy fuck, man!" I turn toward him, panicked that I'm dead,
I'm shot, I just don't feel it yet, but then I see he's got the thing pointed at the sky.
"Get the fuck outta here!" he says. "I tried to do you a favor. That Gila monster was not mistreated.
You're lucky I don't kill you right now!"
"Fuck you, man! I'm hurt, look at this." I show him my hand and I'm almost crying. "Look at this
fucking shit!"
"Get the fuck outta here! I told you as much! I told you Muffler wasn't one to be fucked with! And neither
am I! Get the hell outta here!"
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"Go sleep with the coyotes," he says. "I'll collect your bones in the morning, you son of a bitch!"
I walk away, clutching my wound with my left hand. What the fuck am I supposed to do out here? I'm fucked, I'm
thinking. I'm completely fucked.
After Proosteau goes inside, I decide to go lay myself out behind his house, hide out there. In the black sky I
see the dull twinkling of the stars, and different, brighter twinkle that might be Mars or Venus. My thoughts become
increasingly blurred and soon I find I'm fading...out of consciousness.
In the morning I feel a jab of energy, and my finger's throbbing and still kinda bleeding. I'm feeling lucky that
some beast didn't eat me during the night.
I go around to the side of the house and the first thing I notice is that Proosteau's truck is gone. I try the
front door, but it's locked. The back door, same. I go back around to the side of the house and I'm able to jimmy
a window screen open using the fingernails of my good hand. I crawl through and once inside, my first idea is to
regain a bit of drunkenness. Anything to deal with the pain. I wad up a bunch of paper towels and wrap em around
my finger. I find a pillbox and pop a few of the orange submarine pills located inside. I take a few shots of schnapps
and the sugar and the booze lights me right up and I see clearly what I have to do. Digging around the living room
I find the handgun Proosteau pulled on me last night tucked underneath a couch cushion. I'm thinking it's a 45,
not knowing much about guns. I check it. It's loaded. I know that much. I take the safety off and wait.
Soon enough, Proosteau's truck comes tumbling along the dirt road and I wait inside, the gun pointed at the door.
I'm sweating and shaking very badly because I've never shot a gun before and I have to use my left hand for everything.
I use my right arm to keep my left hand steady and I wait. I wait. I hear the lock go. The door opens.
"You!" he says, entering. "Son of a bitch got inside somehow, eh? Oh, and now you've got my gun?"
He scratches his beard.
"You should've taken me to a fuckin hospital." I say. "You said those things were poisonous."
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