A British man with a name I’d never heard sent poems to a blog site I jointly run. He said he was in Spain caring for a sick dog, I had an eerie feeling something supernatural was happening. His girlfriend was trying to help him to return to England. He figured he’d crash with his parents and work as a gardener and write. I called him and said I was on my way to Paris for a reading and to meet a French publisher that accepted my sex novella. The Frenchman said he tried reading it on the bus, but he kept getting a hard on. My pal said in England they call it an erection on, also the American’s use of the word cunt was frowned upon. I finished the marijuana joint I was smoking and wrote him and said, “Cunt and hard on is bad?” He just laughed as I hung up.
After taking several xanax and slurping martinis I killed my panic about flying. I saw the Eiffel Tower from a taxi, but I was still very fucked up on the way to my hotel. I did my reading at The Shakespeare & Co. Bookstore, I sold a few chapbooks and talked a bit of smack. My pal was sitting there grinning. I didn’t know it was him until he introduced himself. He told me the dog died and he had buried it in his friend’s backyard, but something had dug it up in the night. He suggested taking the Chunnel train to London before I was to head back to America, I agreed.
We had a few beers and smoked a blunt of hash mixed with tobacco before boarding the train. It was a two hour trip by high speed rail. We were an hour under the water when the train stopped and all the lights went out. I felt anxiety crawling up the back of my throat like a caterpillar with gonorrhea, especially when I saw my British pal being attacked by a red eyed demon zombie dog from Spain. I took off my shoe started beating on the canine and screamed a Mexican Indian cure chant. It must have had some effect, the lights flickered and the dog vanished.
I ordered a bottle of gin and poured my pal a few stiff drinks. We were both tanked by the time we hit Great Britain, but at least we were still breathing. Spanish dog zombies are sure as fuck not man’s best friend.