Read Online Fluke by James Herbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Herbert
Tags: Horror
Ads: Link
nip my neck as encouragement. Now, I'm sure you've never seen two dogs act this way outside a butcher's shop before, but there aren't many dogs like Rumbo and me around, just the odd few. You've seen dogs mugging kids for their ice-creams and sweets, though, and I'm sure you've caught your own dog stealing at some time or other. What you haven't seen -
or perhaps noticed - is organised canine crime. Most dogs are too stupid for it, but I can assure you it does exist.
Page 30
I entered the shop and slunk along under the counter where the chopping butcher couldn't see me, looking back pleadingly at my forceful partner. There was no reprieve in his dark brown eyes. Reaching the end of the counter, I cautiously looked up, the sounds of that falling chopper making my body judder with every blow. I made a dash for the corner and squatted, squeezing my bowels to make something happen. We were lucky it was still early morning and there were no customers to complicate things. After a few strained grunts, I began to have some success. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to draw attention to myself and could have squatted there in peace for quite a long while had not Rumbo lost patience and begun yapping at me.
The butcher stayed his small meat chopper in mid-air and looked over to the doorway.
'Oh, it's you again, is it? Wait till I get hold of you,' he threatened.
He hastily placed his chopper on the counter and started making his way round towards Rumbo. That's when he saw me.
Our eyes met, his wide and disbelieving, mine wide and knowing only too well what was going to happen next.
'Oiii!' he cried, and his journey round the counter took on a new pace. I half rose, but running was a problem at that particular moment. Instead, I did a sort of undignified shuffling waddle towards the open doorway. Rumbo was already up at the counter, sorting out the nicest cut for himself while the butcher's whole attention was focused on me. The red-faced butcher had picked up a broom in the course of his journey, one of those heavy jobs used for scrubbing floors as well as sweeping. He waved it in the air before him like a knight's lance, its base aimed at my backside. There was no avoiding it and my awkward predicament didn't help matters.
Thank God the broom had a multitude of bristles, strong and hard but not as strong and hard as the handle would have been. I yelped as they cracked down on my rump, the butcher extending his arm so I was sent scuttling across the floor. I skidded and rolled but was up like a rabbit, running for the open doorway, Rumbo close on my heels, at least a pound and a half of raw steak hanging from his jaws.
'Oiiiii!' was all I heard from the butcher as I flew down the street, my partner-in-crime keeping pace and chuckling at his own cleverness.
Men and women hastily stepped to one side when they saw us coming and one man foolishly tried to snatch the dangling meat from Rumbo's mouth. Rumbo was too wily for that and easily avoided the grasping hand, leaving the man sprawled on hands and knees behind him. We ran on, Rumbo keeping a measured pace beside me and much amused by my panic. Finally he called out through his clenched mouth, 'This way, squirt, into the park!'
The urge to go my own way, to get away from this thief, was great, but my appetite was greater; besides, I'd earned my share of the booty. I followed him through rusted iron gates into what seemed to me to be acres and acres of lush greenery surrounded by giant foliage, but what must actually have been a fairly small city park. Rumbo disappeared into a clump of bushes and I chased after him, flopping into a panting, eyes-rolling heap on the soft soil two feet away from the spot where he'd decided to go to earth.
He looked at me in a smirky way as I heaved in great lungfuls of air, nodding his head at some inner satisfaction. 'You did all right, pup,' he said. 'With a little bit of guidance you could amount to something.
You're not like the other stupid
or perhaps noticed - is organised canine crime. Most dogs are too stupid for it, but I can assure you it does exist.
Page 30
I entered the shop and slunk along under the counter where the chopping butcher couldn't see me, looking back pleadingly at my forceful partner. There was no reprieve in his dark brown eyes. Reaching the end of the counter, I cautiously looked up, the sounds of that falling chopper making my body judder with every blow. I made a dash for the corner and squatted, squeezing my bowels to make something happen. We were lucky it was still early morning and there were no customers to complicate things. After a few strained grunts, I began to have some success. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to draw attention to myself and could have squatted there in peace for quite a long while had not Rumbo lost patience and begun yapping at me.
The butcher stayed his small meat chopper in mid-air and looked over to the doorway.
'Oh, it's you again, is it? Wait till I get hold of you,' he threatened.
He hastily placed his chopper on the counter and started making his way round towards Rumbo. That's when he saw me.
Our eyes met, his wide and disbelieving, mine wide and knowing only too well what was going to happen next.
'Oiii!' he cried, and his journey round the counter took on a new pace. I half rose, but running was a problem at that particular moment. Instead, I did a sort of undignified shuffling waddle towards the open doorway. Rumbo was already up at the counter, sorting out the nicest cut for himself while the butcher's whole attention was focused on me. The red-faced butcher had picked up a broom in the course of his journey, one of those heavy jobs used for scrubbing floors as well as sweeping. He waved it in the air before him like a knight's lance, its base aimed at my backside. There was no avoiding it and my awkward predicament didn't help matters.
Thank God the broom had a multitude of bristles, strong and hard but not as strong and hard as the handle would have been. I yelped as they cracked down on my rump, the butcher extending his arm so I was sent scuttling across the floor. I skidded and rolled but was up like a rabbit, running for the open doorway, Rumbo close on my heels, at least a pound and a half of raw steak hanging from his jaws.
'Oiiiii!' was all I heard from the butcher as I flew down the street, my partner-in-crime keeping pace and chuckling at his own cleverness.
Men and women hastily stepped to one side when they saw us coming and one man foolishly tried to snatch the dangling meat from Rumbo's mouth. Rumbo was too wily for that and easily avoided the grasping hand, leaving the man sprawled on hands and knees behind him. We ran on, Rumbo keeping a measured pace beside me and much amused by my panic. Finally he called out through his clenched mouth, 'This way, squirt, into the park!'
The urge to go my own way, to get away from this thief, was great, but my appetite was greater; besides, I'd earned my share of the booty. I followed him through rusted iron gates into what seemed to me to be acres and acres of lush greenery surrounded by giant foliage, but what must actually have been a fairly small city park. Rumbo disappeared into a clump of bushes and I chased after him, flopping into a panting, eyes-rolling heap on the soft soil two feet away from the spot where he'd decided to go to earth.
He looked at me in a smirky way as I heaved in great lungfuls of air, nodding his head at some inner satisfaction. 'You did all right, pup,' he said. 'With a little bit of guidance you could amount to something.
You're not like the other stupid
Similar Books
