39
"You are nothing more than a dog."
"You give up everything to be a dog."
"The more you resist..."
Not your everyday content, John/Frisky mused. But there was no mistaking it was Valerie's voice. Over and over again. Almost in a perfect rhythm. It played through her old phone she kept in the front seat with her. She'd occasionally lift it up, look at it, then look back at him in the mirror.
His destination was still a mystery. Was it some other humiliation John/Frisky was meant to endure? Maybe she was going to go all the way this time and just have him castrated by some unscrupulous doctor easily paid off for back door service and no questions asked. He resigned himself to the fact that he was helpless to stop Valerie from doing anything Valerie felt like doing to him just as he had no influence determining their destination from the back seat of the SUV.
Valerie tapped her finger on the steering wheel to the sounds of a muffled melody. The music played through the SUV's speaker system vibrating through the seat and the air bypassing John/Frisky's ears.. Through the city traffic, he could look out the well tinted windows knowing that he could see the people in their cars next to them, but they couldn't see him. To the car in front of them the rear view mirror would reveal nothing but a pretty lady and her dog in the back seat.
Not even the suspension system of the Cadillac SUV could negate the buffeting inside as Valerie drove through the pot hole riddled driveway of a small restaurant. In the front were two women at the entrance turning to see Valerie pull into the parking stall. It was Francy and Janet. They both looked through the clear windshield from Valerie to John/Frisky in the backseat.
Valerie retrieved the old phone from the seat and turned down the volume in John/Frisky's ears. "You remember Janet and Francy from last week?" she asked behind her as she made a quick wave of her hand at them. "I'm have brunch with them."
She put the vehicle in park and shut off the motor. "Now, if you promise to stay quiet, I'll leave the windows partly rolled down for you. And we'll be sitting right there," she pointed straight forward into the window of the building, "able to see you the whole time."
After a moment of silence she asked, "Are you going to be a good boy?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hagan."
"Good dog." The windows each dropped two inches. The volume of her voice in his ears increased blocking all outdoor sounds. The car door flung open. The locks slammed down. The car door shut and Valerie's jean clad rear end joufully skipped up onto the sidewalk joining in with her friends.
It wasn't hard for John/Frisky to follow her on the inside of the restaurant through the windows as she stood out from the crowd with her long auburn hair and turquoise shirt starched to perfection and tucked into her jeans at her fit waistline. The three women sat down at a booth right in front of him, laughing and talking. Valerie sat alone to the left. The other two women on the right looked out at him making it obvious that he was the topic of discussion. Valerie tucked her purse down on the bench next to herself as she looked out giving him a knowing glance.
This, right here, is how he was going to be a better dog/slave. He would be quiet as Mrs. Hagan had demanded. She was kind enough to leave the windows down to get a cool breeze on his chest keeping him comfortable while he waits.
The waitress stepped up to the ladies' table to get their drink orders. She was older, a little overweight, her dark hair sported streaks of blue and hung down each cheek like a theater curtain about to close on the stage. If she would look straight ahead, over the table past the salt and pepper shackers, out the window, she would see the head of a dog/slave. But she didn't. She walked away with three drink orders swirling through her mind.
Some older ladies exited the building, their voices funneled through the partially open windows yet distorted from the wireless ear speakers and the material of the mask. The conversation, as much as John/Frisky could tell, was of gratuitous goodbyes, of how fun it is to get together once in a while for breakfast, and the 'we'll be seeing you' variety. Each woman walked to opposite sides of the SUV, unable to see in. Their pursues bobbing up and down on their crooked arms. The one on the left opened the passenger door tossing her purse on the seat. The lady on the right unlocked her car and climbed right in. She made a quick look right at him but was greeted by only her own reflection, he was sure. He bobbed his head around just for good measure.
Both cars, one at a time, started up and backed out leaving the parking spaces on both sides of John/Frisky available for the lunch patrons. Booming business. Maybe, he thought, they could put some money into fixing their driveway.
The waitress returned to the big cafe front window with three drinks and began collecting menus while taking the ladies' food orders. Did she even know he was there? Imprisoned inside of the vehicle? Balls of stainless steel locked at the end of his arms assured that any use his dexterous fingers may have remained isolated from the outside world? No. She didn't know.
The waitress smiled, laughed and ever so quickly looked out the window seeing him through the front windshield of the SUV. It was a short lived eye contact between a free soul and one bound not only by chains, but his own imagination. Through the glare of both windows she must have thought he was a dog because she showed no unprecedented reaction at all.
That was good, he thought. Well, maybe it was good. Maybe it was bad.
"You are broken. You are a failure in life"
"As a man you are useless."
"Nobody could love a man like you."
It was Valerie's voice alright. However the misplaced inflections in tone ruined the illusion reminding him it was A.I. mimicking her voice. But still the words rang with her stern authority she had previously introduced him to. The contentious statements were not as cruel as they were efficient at affirming his own deep held beliefs.
Inside the cafe the women talked and laughed as if John/Frisky weren't there staring at them.
"Your mind is a wasteland of dog/slave fantasies."
"All you can think about is being a dog."
"Your a loser. Life as a dog is your reality."
As John/Frisky had little choice but to endure Valerie's voice poking and prodding the deepest parts of his tormented soul, the ladies inside ate their food without an apparent thought of him.
