"Yvonne Navarro - I Know What to Do2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Navarro Yvonne)

Both hands plunged into the midst of the aluminum gadgets and searched
frantically -- there, a pair of tongs with serrated edges. I barreled into
the
hallway pointing the thing like a gun, as if just the sight would drive the
creature away, but no such luck.
"She's getting loose!" Chanci had almost squirmed out from under Maggie and I
could see places where the dog's nails had raked welts into my wife's skin. I
sprawled on top of the animal's back end and reached around Maggie, who was
trying unsuccessfully to hold Chanci's thrashing legs; any second now I
expected
my lovable mutt to chomp into one of us. Pain has a way of changing
personality.

I outweigh Maggie by a good fifty pounds, but that dog was still bucking
under
me like some kind of wild horse. She opened her mouth and showed those old
yellow teeth and I thought, Here it comes! but before it could I shoved my
left
fist into her throat and forced her head as far back as it would go against
Maggie's arm. I ignored Maggie's shocked protest and reached over with the
other
hand and clamped onto the shell of that thing with the tongs, dug in hard and
pulled.
It came off fast, but the amount of resistance against my arm muscles made my
stomach twist in sick sympathy. The noise Chanci made sounded more like a
screaming baby than a dog and Maggie screamed right along with her. It wasn't
until I pulled my fist out of the dog's mouth and stood up with that thing on
the end of those tongs that I realized I'd hollered too.
Chanci scrunched herself into a corner and pawed at her nose, with Maggie
crouched beside her trying to talk soothingly. I saw spots of blood dripping
down the tongs and half-fell into the bathroom, intending to flush that thing
right down the toilet. As I reached for the lid my right hand bumped against
the
sink and the tongs opened a fraction too much.
The roach fell to the floor and made for the bathtub.
"Mother fucker!" I bellowed. My work boot came down with a hundred and eighty
pounds of crazed construction worker in it and I danced on that little son of
a
bitch for a full ten seconds. Then I slumped against the sink and tried to
catch
my breath; the tongs had gone sailing into that unfriendly area under the
tub.
Maggie was still talking softly to Chanci; I don't even think she heard me
swear
over the dog's whines. She might play the stern master but the charade didn't
fool me; that dog's grizzled face and big brown eyes made her melt inside.
I rinsed my face and hands at the sink to get the sweat and dog smell off,
then
dried myself, grabbed a hunk of toilet paper and squatted down. It was an
ugly