Man With a Dog Who Barks at Nothing

Yeah, I work with kids. I love kids. Little angels, I call ‘em. I work intake at a place for juveniles. Not a prison – we don’t use that word, “prison.” It’s really a good place. We’re there to help them, get them on the right track, you know? I’m on the interview team. Everyone has to do an interview when they go in. For the file, and just as a sort of baseline, just to see where they’re at. you might think it would be hard work, getting kids to open up and talk about themselves, and yeah, sometimes it is, but usually it’s actually not hard at all. A lot of the time, I think they’ve really just been waiting for someone to ask. You convince them you really wanna hear it and they’ll just start going. They’ll tell me all sorts of things. Weird things sometimes, things only a kid would think is important. Like, what color dress their mom was wearing last time they saw them, or why they like alligators more than crocodiles. They tell me sad things, too, though. A lot of sad things. It’s hard to take sometimes, honestly. I’m really a sensitive sort of guy, believe it or not. Really. But at the end of the day, it’s my job. It’s how I put food on the table. For me, for my dog, too. You like dogs, right? You seem like a dog person. Just something about you. But yeah, anyway, point is, the kids tell me all sorts of things. Like, this one girl, she told me her dad made her eat a bowl full of moths. He sat her down at the table one night and put this bowl of dead moths in front of her and didn’t let her get up until it was totally empty. He’d been collecting them for weeks, you know, going out on the porch each morning and picking them out of the bug zapper, keeping them in this Tupperware container in the fridge so they wouldn’t rot or whatever it is happens to dead bugs. Dry out? Now that I think about it, I’ve never really thought about it. Anyway, he didn’t make her eat them right out of the fridge, at least. He nuked them in the microwave first. Small kindnesses, right? Although she said the first few were so hot they burned the roof of her mouth, so maybe not. There was another kid whose dad lost his job and started digging this giant pit in the basement. The thing ended up going more than thirty feet down. Seriously! And he actually went about it pretty carefully, too. He got all this equipment and figured out where the gas lines were and stuff, made sure he wasn’t going to dig into something that would blow the house up. But he didn’t have any reason to be digging in the first place, I mean, I don’t think he had anything to put in there, he didn’t need to bury anything or store anything or I don’t know what. He was just digging. He must have been completely batshit. Started threatening to throw the kid in there and leave him there, too, once it got deep enough he couldn’t have gotten out. He never actually did but, you know, the threat is bad enough. And he wanted the kid to memorize Faust, you know, that play by the old German guy, whatshisname? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, he was making the kid memorize the whole thing, telling him if he didn’t he’d throw the kid in this pit in the basement and never let him out, and not only that, but he wanted him to memorize it in the original German! And they weren’t immigrants or something. They were red-blooded, born-and-bred Americans, founding stock for all I know. Point is, the kid didn’t know a word of German! Same with the dad, but he still expected him to memorize the whole thing, this whole random old play, in German, or else he was gonna put him in this hole he’d been digging and never let him out, just let him starve to death was the idea, I guess, who knows what he was thinking. I guess the thirst would probably get you first, in that situation. Unless he was able to get water from the soil somehow. Anyway, the guy ended up drinking rat poison, the kid went to live with his aunt, who was a total basket case, wouldn’t let him watch TV, kept bugging out accusing him of stealing random shit, basically it was only a matter of time before he ended up with us. Then there was another kid whose dad was catching stray dogs and training them to fight, and when she pissed him off he’d make her sleep in the basement with them. That was a real sad one. He kept all the dogs in separate cages, you know, or else they’d all kill each other, just tear each other apart over nothing, and he put her a cage of her own, too, he wasn’t that much of a bastard, but the dogs would bark and howl all night when she was there. I mean, I’m sure they barked anyway, but she said it was always way worse when she was there. They just hated her guts for some reason. Maybe a pheromone thing? I’m sure they weren’t getting any in there. Anyway, it stressed her out so much she ended up biting off two of her fingers and chewing a hole right through her cheek. They did what they could at the hospital, a pretty heroic job honestly, in my non-professional opinion, but, you know, let’s just say I don’t foresee a modeling career in her future. Sorry, I probably sound like such a douchebag saying that, but I’m just being honest. Besides, it’s not like she’s gonna overhear me. It’s just you and I having a private conversation here, and I won’t tell if you won’t. Okay? You know, I should say, it’s not just fathers that kids tell me about. I know it’s cool to blame all of society’s ills on the male species these days but, you know, you girls aren’t perfect either. There was one kid I interviewed who had a sister that was ten years older than him who kept putting snakes and spiders and stuff like that in his bed. The parents knew about it, too! But they didn’t care, they just let it happen. He told me she was their favorite, so they let her do whatever she wanted to him. She was the one they wanted, and he was just an accident. That’s what he told me! Can you believe that? I mean, it seems like it was probably true, but imagine actually saying that to your kid. They made him sleep in the attic and they’d just let her sneak up there in the middle of the night and release whatever she’d caught that day into his bed. It only stopped because he got bitten by some spider that made his throat swell shut. He almost died! And at the hospital when they examined him they found dozens of different bite and scratch marks all over his body. Seriously, I saw the pictures. Or there was another kid whose aunt and uncle made him dress up like Mary, Queen of Scots, with the corset and veil and that big ruffled collar and everything. All that constrictive old-timey clothing, you know? Practically a bondage get-up. You know about bondage? Gimp suits, ballgags, that sort of thing? Hey, don’t look at me like that. I was only asking, didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not into that kind of stuff either. Scout’s honor. That type of clothing just always makes me think of it. Anyway, they were obsessed that whole period and with her and her execution in particular, had been for years. I think they even first met at some kind of convention for… what’s the word? Aquarians? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Not the point. The point is they would reenact it over and over again on this whole elaborate set they’d built in their barn. They lived out in a rural area, you know, kind of place where your closest neighbor is a mile away. And this kid had to spend whole summers there pretending to get beheaded over and over again, every day he was getting beheaded while his parents were off vacationing all over Europe! The fake blood would get in his eyes and sting but they wouldn’t let him wipe it away until the whole thing was finished, including this elaborate funeral service where they would both get up and improvise these long, rambling monologues. I guess they were improvised, anyway. He said they were always different. I guess they could’ve been writing them ahead of time. Who knows. Oh, hey, do you want another drink? Let me get you another drink. Bartender? Two more beers and a finger of bourbon, please. Thank you. Keep the change. Sure. Anyway. What was I saying? Right, right. These kids. Little angels. Oh, here’s a crazy one. So this one kid’s parents were keeping him locked up in this secret room behind a bookcase, like in some cheesy mystery story or something. For real, there was a lever hidden behind a particular book and when you pulled it the whole thing would swing open. He explained the whole mechanism to me. Even drew me a diagram. Real bright kid. The parents were super rich, one-percenter types, worked in finance I think, so they owned a huge mansion on a lake and they could afford to renovate it however they wanted, basically. But listen, I haven’t gotten to the crazy part yet. The wife got pregnant with twins, and after she gave birth they got it in their heads that one of them, this kid, was an “evil twin” that was this deformed freak who was disturbed and needed to be kept hidden away or else he’d bring shame on the family or something, I guess. The other one they thought was fine, of course. But get this, seriously, get this. There was no other one. It was just this one kid the whole time! I mean, his mom had been pregnant with twins, that really happened, but one of them had been nonviable, a stillbirth or something, I don’t know the details. So it was just this one kid, and which “twin” they thought he was would change from day to day or even hour to hour, they would go from treating him like a normal kid to suddenly shrieking at him, slapping him, shaking him, demanding to know he got out of the secret room. And when he’d tell them that it was them who let him out, they wouldn’t believe him. Anyway, they weren’t sending him to school, obviously. What education he got was only what he was able to pick up on the days when they thought he was the “good one”. And then once he figured out how to read he started sneaking books back into the secret room with him. Like I said, bright kid. Anyway, the whole thing only came out because they had to sell the house when the market crashed. Who knows how long it might have gone on otherwise. I interviewed this one boy who was in a similar situation where the parents divorced and he went to live with his mother, and she became convinced he was the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. Man, that was a tough one. Honestly, I don’t like thinking about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Sorry, forget I said anything. It’s bad manners to talk about religion, anyway. I don’t want you to think I’m intolerant. I’m really not at all. I respect whatever people’s beliefs are. One time there was a girl I interviewed, I think she was about fifteen, who said there was a witch that would sneak into her room at night through the air vent and crawl under the covers with her. A witch! I didn’t believe her, of course, it was obviously ridiculous, but I played along, you know, wrote down everything she said, tried to look serious. It’s important the kids feel you’re on their side. And I am. I really am. Sometimes that just means exercising a little skepticism, you know, a little critical thinking to distinguish the stuff that really happened from the stuff they just think happened, for their own good. I mean, it wasn’t her fault. She was from one of those housing projects, so I’m sure she had been exposed to a lot of wacky ideas from all those ghetto type people around. I don’t mean anything racial by that. It’s a cultural thing. You know what I mean. But really, what was funny was she wasn’t even there for anything to do with that. Her dad got arrested for dealing drugs and since there wasn’t any other family in the picture they didn’t know what else to do with her, so they just sent her to us. It was just something she said out of nowhere during the interview. Nothing to do with anything. I certainly didn’t ask if she’d had any fucking witch encounters lately. I mean, I’m a professional. I’m not there to goof around and play pretend. She was very articulate for her background, though, I have to admit. I was impressed, honestly. That’s the thing about kids. They’re full of surprises. Full of potential. But that’s the really hard part about the job, too. You see so many kids where if they had better role models, better circumstances, who knows what they could do. But instead they’re all screwed up. I mean, if they weren’t they wouldn’t be talking to me, that’s for goddamn sure. That’s the thing though, isn’t it? It’s mostly luck of the draw how your life goes. Either you get born to good, competent people that know how to raise a child or you don’t, you get born to a couple fuck-ups, or one fuck-up, or who the hell knows, and that basically decides the whole thing. That’s what I believe, anyway. Don’t ask about my folks, though – I’m the exception that proves the rule! Geez, I’ve been rambling, haven’t I? You really got me going. You wanna get out of here? It’s getting late. Hey, come on, don’t be like that. It’s not even about that. Look, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this but I really can’t get to sleep unless I’ve got someone lying next to me. If I’m alone, I’ll just lie awake all night. And the dog doesn’t like it either. He’s always barking at nothing when it’s just me and him there. Seriously, he goes on all night sometimes, just barking and barking. I don’t know why, all I know is he only shuts up when there’s company. Honestly, I really haven’t been getting enough sleep. I’m not too proud to admit it! It’s really been starting to make me feel funny. I keep getting things confused. Sometimes I’ll think I’m at work, doing another interview, and then I’ll suddenly realize I’m actually lying in bed at home, just staring at the ceiling, and what I thought was the kid talking, was actually just my dog barking. Sometimes I’m not even sure I even have a job, like maybe it’s just been the dog this whole time, just barking and barking. It’s ridiculous, I know, but it really freaks me out when that happens. You don’t want me to go through that again, do you? You wouldn’t want things to get even worse for me. Come on, I can tell you’re not like that. No way. You’ve got compassion, I can tell. You’re a very warm, compassionate person. I’m sure you’re a very, very warm person. And don’t try to deny it. I know what I’m talking about. Everyone at work says I’m a great judge of character.