David was out the back door and across the lawn, so fast his feet barely touched the grass. He had Curly scooped up and was heading, top speed, between the houses for the street. By the time he hit the sidewalk, sirens could be heard in the distance. His sock feet, soaking wet from the dew, leaked out into puddles around his feet as he looked down the row of houses to his right. The Bradley’s house, just six lots down, was on fire and the whole family looked on in horror from the curb.
David put Curly in his car and scuttled across the lawn to the Kane’s house next door. He pounded on the door with one hand and rung the bell with the other, but before it was answered, he was off to the next house–the Murphy’s. Everyone else was outside already but Able Kane and the Murphys were all members of a coveted sect of society, who could sleep–as long as they wanted–the retired.
As he reached the Murphy’s door, the scream of the sirens neared. David was banging and ringing as Able Kane stepped out on the stoop of the house David had just finished accosting. He looked over while holding his housecoat together with one hand and trying to tame what was left of his thinning hair with the other.
“What in Tarnation!” was all he muttered before running back inside.
Andy Murphy swung open his door abruptly and presented David with a look of indignation. The open door allowed a wave of sight and sound to wash over him as emergency vehicles ripped past. The look of realization on his neighbor’s face was all David needed, he was off and running back to grab his pooch.
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Disjointed Jottings by Robert Smith (A.K.A. TyCobbsTeeth) 