A chat with my Boston (The Lottery)

A conversation with my best friend, who happens to be a rescued Boston Terrier

A chat with my Boston (The Lottery)

“Why do you want to win the lottery?” asked my Boston Terrier.

“I f*cking love you,you cycloptic son-of-a-b*tch!” I raised my glass of bourbon, ice, and a little RC, to my dog, and best friend.

He aint mad. He knows he only has one eye. That’s just the way he came from the pound when I adopted him.

I flopped back onto reclining loveseat and he curled up beside me. It’s a little chilly and he appreciates my extensive (we will just call it fortitude) and my warmth. I’ve grown accustomed to his hair everywhere and we fit together like two peas in a pod.

“I’ll tell you buddy, I’d like to get some bills paid off.”

“Yea right. You’ve never stressed about that in your life and you are a little long in the tooth to play the fiscal conservative card now, aren’t you?” he replied.

I took a slug of my drink, and it burned a little. It was a good burn, a comforting burn, and one I had grown accustomed to. I grinned at the dog and he looked at me, one eye shining and one a closed lid. He had called my bluff, he knew it and so did I.

“Well I’ll tell you. I’d like to buy this building. I would like a have a beautiful apartment made downstairs, have a little bar and grill put into the main floor, and use the upstairs for office space for a future electronic publishing empire.” he looked at me with dull interest but not really what I would call enthusiasm.

“This is a great building, you know it and so do I.” I continued. “It’s over 100 years old, the plumbing and electric are recently updated, it’s right on main street, and I think I could make some money with a decent diner and bar that actually catered to a bit of a younger crowd and served real food that came on a real plate.”

“Yea, that makes sense.” my dog conceded.

Jazz played through the soundbar and I drained my drink. I considered mixing another but I was already pretty buzzed from the last one and three others. I’m an old man, it’s after 10pm and we will probably go to bed soon.

“And?” my boston terrier inquired.

“And what?”

“And what….? Why else? Tell me truth.”

I laughed. “You know me too well.”

“Well?”

“The lady in the back apartment has been bitching about me not picking up your poop again.”

“Oh…” my dog replied, as his single eye rolled while he looked everywhere but at me.

“It’s OK buddy. I’m not mad at you.” I mumbled as I petted him.

“I want to win the lottery so I can evict that old b*tch.”

Now his eye smiled at me as I smiled at him. His stub of a tail lightly wagged and he snuggled closer.

“Yea f*ck her.” he said.

J. Swaney

10/18/2018

Author's Note

It's been a long time since I've written.:(

I appreciate honesty.

Te story is true.