Page 109 of Cookout Carnage
‘Amy, this is not his costume!’
‘But it was in your purse. It had his name on and everything.’
‘Sherilyn!’ Her head jerked up. Tristan was under an awning with Emmett and Clara, waving at them. She saw his gaze fall to Wiener and his smile falter.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! She could feel people watching them. On this, the most patriotic of all days, she was parading her dog through the town dressed in a Union Jack costume and a crown on his head.
‘I’m sorry, Sherri-Lynne, I just did what you asked,’ said Amy, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘Can I go now? I need to get to the hall.’
‘Yes, go. Sorry, Amy, this is my fault. I’ll see you later.’
Amy disappeared into the crowds and Sherilyn weighed up her options. Tris was still close enough to see them so she couldn’t make a break for it yet. She’d wait till they were halfway up the street, then she’d escape out of the parade and change his costume. God only knew what was in the treats Tristan had brought. Amphetamines? Wiener was bouncing, pulling and jerking to be free. In front of them was a float from the retirement home. At the back was a ramp that reached to the ground so the old folk could make it up onto the top. They were sitting on lawn chairs and waving at the crowds. Paper petals had been tied around their faces, so their heads resembled flowers. The float was decorated with butterflies and birds, and in between the cut-out shapes, seed had been stuck to black fabric.
‘Shhhh! Wiener! Shhhh!’ He was barking and whining and setting off the other dogs. What was up with him?
Something on the float in front caught her eye.Oh no.Tucked under a lawn chair, eating the seed from the floor, was a squirrel.
‘Hey, you gonna control your dog?’
Distracted, Sherilyn turned to the man behind her. Wiener gave a final tug that wrenched the leash out of her hands and was gone, bounding up the ramp onto the float.
‘Wiener!’
She darted after him, barrelling through the people in front of her. The old folk were packed like sardines and once Wiener had crashed into one, the rest went down like dominos. He was small and could make it under the chair legs; she, on the other hand, faced a barricade of upended lawn furniture, limbs and walkers. People in the crowd were screaming and yelling, and the rest of the dogs were getting caught up in the excitement. The float came to a juddering stop and people surged forward to help. Sherilyn couldn’t see Wiener, but she could hear him. As the old people were lifted to safety she dived between the fallen chairs and grabbed him. He wriggled in her arms but she held on tightly and sat on the edge of the float to jump down.
‘Sherilyn!’ Tris was pushing through the crowd towards her.
The float jerked forward and she lost her balance, falling to the ground. She hit the asphalt with a thump. Wiener pulled free and ran. Dogs were all around them, running forward past the other floats towards the part of the parade with the animals from the 4H club.
Tristan helped her up. ‘You okay?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve got to get Wiener before—’
A terrified squeal sounded from up ahead, followed by a cacophony of bellows and squawks. They were too late.
Sherilyn ran. The floats up ahead had now stopped. The classic cars were empty and abandoned. People were screaming and hurrying their children out of the way. Sherilyn could hear the band still playing, but it stopped as the first pig reached them. She could just make out Wiener in his Union Jack outfit, barking with delight as he nipped at the heels of a cow. In the square, the dance troupe broke formation. Her parents and other local dignitaries were on the grandstand, their jaws on the floor. Fender ran for the cow, holding it in a headlock before two other men came to assist. Wiener ran on,the stage emptying as everyone pitched in to help. Tristan yelled for Wiener. The dog turned at the sound of his name and ran into Tristan’s arms.
The square was a mess of abandoned pom-poms, musical instruments and chickens still evading capture. Sherilyn reached Tristan at the same time as her father. Ford Bodean’s face was redder than his shirt.
‘What in tarnation have you done, young lady?’
‘Hey, this is not her fault!’ interjected Tristan.
‘Who the hell are you?’ yelled Ford. ‘And give me my dog.’
Tristan stepped back. ‘I’m her boyfriend and this is not your dog.’
‘Boyfriend? Boyfriend!’ Her father was apoplectic. ‘Like hell you are! Hand over the damn dog!’
Now her mom had appeared. ‘Sherri-Lynne, you okay, honey? What’s going on?’
‘No, I will not,’ replied Tristan to her father. ‘You need to calm down.’
‘Calm down?’ he yelled, looking away. ‘Axle! Fender! Git over here. Now!’ He drew his shoulders back and faced Tristan. ‘I don’t know who you think you are, you highfalutin sonofabitch, but you ain’t nothing to do with my daughter.’
Tristan stepped between her and her father, Wiener now licking his face.
‘Sherilyn is not your daughter.’
