The sun was just setting on the old decrepit city block, and no one with no thing appeared to be in plain sight or view of anything or anyone else. The shadows told a different story, however, as a dog of whom had been kicked and hit one too many times was cowering by a trash heap covered in an incredible amount of flies. The dog was rather skinny, having eaten only a banana peel about three days ago for any actual meal. The bits of plastic and metal he ate yesterday surely couldn't count. On the other side of the alleyway of which held this grotesque creature were two homeless people, male or female is unimportant right now.
"Tha mutt 'as been watching 's fer a bit," one homeless person stated, a light scowl plastered on a dirty face.
"Yeh I'm sure. Other-wise I aint've been sayin' it."
"'K, why's it important?"
"Da thing's disgusting, probably 'as a hella amount of disease."
"'S homeless, like us."
"'S only a disgusting beast on our territory."
"Wha' if we're on his?"
"Don' call it a him. Ain't a him, it's an it."
The debilitated animal, with tailed tucked between two of its legs, glanced up, its nose twitching hopefully as it appeared to stare at the human of whom argued with the first. Crawling pathetically over, the dog began to whimper for food, his ears pinned back as he did so.
"Go on, git! Befer I kick yer ass!"
The uncaring homeless person snapped toward the poor animal. The dog remained, however, and let out a whimper. "Rrrow...Rrooow..." the dog growled thoughtfully, his eyes wide and hungry. Though maybe, just maybe, the dog only wanted a scratch behind the ears.
"Did ya not hear me?! I said git! We got our own problems, we ain't got time to care few some ruddy old mutt!" the homeless person snapped once again. The other one there that had been arguing furrowed a brow, but remained silent for now. No one bothered to share the tiny scraps of ground up meal with the animal of whom would surely pass very, very soon.
"The ruddy thing should get 'self hit by a car."
"Sure it tried to at one point in time."
"Fuck, can an animal even contemplate suicide?"
"Sure any beast like us can, if there ain't a point to live anymore."
"The thing's ain't got any more point to live. Should go get itself actually hit by a car."
"How do ya know he ain't got a point to live?"
"Look at it!"
"I am. I see a dog there, wanting some food."
"So yer sayin' it's point is to waste recources?!"
"No..." The arguer paused, glancing over toward the dog once more and rummaging through a holey knapsack. Pulling out the last of the beef jerky in that little knapsack that had been intended for eats later, the homeless person offered it to the dog. "But with tha' same logic, ya could argue that our point is to do jus' tha same. We all got our battles. Sometimes tha point is just to get through them."
The dog lived another week or so before passing of starvation. But the arguer took note of its struggle and decided to live onward to get a job and home, while the uncaring homeless person decided to continue to sulk and put down the notion of helping 'useless animals' in times of need like that. Eventually, the arguer managed to find a dog, and picked up the similarly suffering dog off the street soon after. The dog's name, you ask? "Him. Not It."
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The Patchworked Short Story CollectionShort Story
A random assortment of short stories I happened to write, usually over the course of a few hours to a few days. Some of these are edited, and some are not. You be the judge of the ones you like or dislike. Also, if you think one of these can be a no...