By Brian von Knoblauch
Them boys came buzzing out of the trailhead on their dirt bikes like a horde of angry bees. I heard ‘em comin’ through the woods, tearin’ up the trails. I was tendin’ to my hogs when they went rippin’ by on the main road, gettin’ ol’ Jerry all riled up. Jerry was my dog. He was a good boy and had just turned thirteen. He didn’t like the sound of them dirt bikes much and would snarl and bark at them when they went by, pullin’ ‘gainst his rope. Jerry wasn’ a fan of loud noises; thunderstorms and fireworks scared the shit outta him. I called the sheriff on them boys a few times, but he tol’ me that there’s nothin’ he can do, ‘less they drive on my private property. Didn’t surprise me much, seein’ how his nephew was one of ‘em.
One day them boys stopped coming around. The sheriff came by and he seemed upset, askin’ if I seen his sister’s boy ‘n’ his friends. I tol’ him the las’ time I saw that boy, he and his buddies we’re out on their bikes, headin’ towards the trails on the north end. The damn noise they made gave ol’ Jerry a heart attack and he died mid-snarl. Dropped dead, just like that.
The sheriff didn’t seem to care about ol’ Jer’ though. He thanked me an’ went on his way, headin’ towards the trails. I ‘spect he’ll be back though, soon as he finds the wire I put up ‘tween those trees an’ them boys’ heads underneath it.
Author Bio: I am an IT Manager currently enjoying life in Syracuse, NY.