She’s A Therapy Dog

Pablo backs the stolen ambulance to the rear entrance of the Patiently Insane Home. El Hombre steps out of the ambulance, reaches around his back with his left hand, feels his gun tucked between his pants and back. The heft of the gun give El Hombre a secure feeling, the same way a baby feels when you give it its pacifier.

Farlo’s watching El Hombre and thinks, too bad he wasn’t breast fed or given a pacifier when he was a baby, it’s why he’s all screwed up. Breast feed all babies and give them a pacifier when they cry and they won’t want to play with guns when they grow up.

Joey’s sitting up on the stretcher. He looks at Farlo deep in thought, “What are you thinking?”

Farlo looks over, “I bet you were breast fed.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know. And, every time you cried, your mom gave you a pacifier.”

“How’d you know?”

“You’re afraid of guns.”


“Change of plans, kid. I told Pablo to bring a wheelchair. You’re going to sit in it and pretend your loco. It won’t be hard. Act natural,” said Farlo just as the back doors to ambulance swung open.

Pablo stood behind a wheel chair. El Hombre had his gun in his hand and was practicing a fast draw, western style.

Farlo looked at El Hombre, jumped off the back edge of the ambulance and walked over to El Hombre, “Try that fast draw one more time, I can outdraw you any day of the week and twice on Lunes, Martes, Miercoles, Viernes, and Sabado. I rest on Domingo.”

“You think you’re hot shit, Farlo. Where’s your gun?”

“It’s hidden. I can still reach it, and drop you before you can get a shot off. If you’re not man enough, put the gun away and get busy,” demanded Farlo.

“Nobody says I’m chicken. On the count of three draw. I’m going to be the bad dude that put Farlo down. One … Owe, oooh, aaah, stop, stop,” begged El Hombre. “You cheated man, you didn’t wait until I said three.”

“Tough. I’m keeping your gun. You mess this up tonight, I’m going to fix you so you can never be a father,” growled Farlo.

“Please man. I’m sorry. Keep the gun. I don’t want it.”

“Get your sorry butt off the ground and help Pablo bring Joey to the entrance door.”

Farlo, Pablo, and El Hombre stood by the door.  Tina stood next to Farlo. Farlo looked down the side of the building and saw scattered boxes. Rats were scurry in and out of the boxes carrying food refuse back to their rat’s nest. He motioned El Hombre and Pablo out of the way, pulled the gun out of his scrub’s waist band and fired five shots, one after the other. Five rats flipped up, over and landed still.

“That’s some shooting, man,” said El Hombre.

“That’s what I do to four legged and two legged rats, comprehende,” snarled Farlo.

“I’m cool.”

“Press the button. I don’t have all night,” said Farlo. Tina barked.

Joey got out of his wheelchair and pressed the button. Two minutes went by, nobody came. Farlo took out the gun and fired two shots into the lock. He turned to Pablo, “Wait 15 minutes then take off.” He got behind Joey, pushed him in, and entered a long, dismal corridor, barely lit with fifty watt bulbs. Cobwebs hung from anything that could anchor a cobweb.

Joey whispered, “A security guard is coming our way.”

“So?” said Farlo.

“What do I do?”

“Multiple choice: sing a song, go to sleep, let me whack you aside the head, or all the above.”

“I choose option B.”

The guard, about Farlo’s height, but paunchy, and wearing a ball cap that said security held up his hand, “Where are you going? You can’t have a dog in here.”

“This idiot tried to escape. I caught him just in time. I’m taking him back to his room. Tina is a therapy dog,” said Farlo in a low, gruff, no nonsense voice.

“I’ve never seen you around here. I never seen a dog around here either,” said the guard.

“I’ve never seen you around here, you new?” asked Farlo.

“Not me.”

“Me neither. Now get out of my way before I run your ass over. Or, sic Tina on you,” growled Farlo. T

“Hey, take it easy. I’m only doing my job,” said the guard holding his hands up in surrender.

Farlo said, “I got to take care of Harry J next. What room is he in?”

“He was in room ten. They moved him today to room fifteen. Then twenty minutes ago they carried him out in a body bag.”

“He died?” said Farlo.

“No. They put him a body bag so he wouldn’t scream or try to escape. He’s a crazy one. He keeps talking about some nut job rescuing him,” said the guard.

“Where’d they take him? He has my watch,” said Joey.

“You the nut job?” asked the guard.

“Un huh,” said Joey.

The security guard looked at Farlo, “They took Harry J to the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility. It’s over by the Heavenly Haven Cemetery.”

“See you later” said Farlo.

“Where you going?” said the guard.

“I promised this nut job, he could see Harry J tonight. I never go back on a promise. You got a problem with that?” said Farlo. Tina showed her fangs.

“Not me. I never seen yah. Bye.”

Just as Farlo, Tina, and Joey cleared the door where the ambulance was supposed to be waiting, they saw it heading down the driveway.

“What about my clothes?” asked Joey.

“Turn your hospital gown into a fashion statement. We got to heist a car.”

“Huh?” said Joey.


Will they ever rescue Harry J? Why was Harry J carried out in a body bag? Who’s Farlo?



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