Back in front of the store, the doors were closed, and past the glass of the doors I could see the Clerk changing the prices of some items. A primal fear overtook me, making me turn away and sit against the outer walls of the store, the ones covered in posters of what I thought, once, were dogs, but in reality were collages of tiny pictures of anime girls comprising caricatures of dogs. And once my ass was safely on the ground, Blacky tail-wagging by my side, and my hands on my scalp, I proceeded to panic and scream.
“It has followed me here! It cannot be, it cannot be! Even in death!”
“What happens, Master? you seem distressed,” He observed so astutely.
My lips trembled. “The Clerk is… remarking prices…”
Blacky stuck his tongue out and touched my forehead with it. “Hmmm, you are not hallucinating from fever,” he commented after a few seconds.
I felt his wet, hot tongue still wiggling on my skin. “Blacky, could I have a panic attack without you ruining the moment?” I asked, calmly.
My helper stepped back. “Yes, Master.”
I resumed the screaming. “He is remarking prices!”
“Yes, he does that when things go on sale,” Blacky exclaimed as he licked his balls.
The panic attack stopped in his tracks and died as suddenly as I did in my last encounter with funny cat videos. “So he’s just a scammer. Got it. “
Blacky, concerned, left the ball lustering for later and looked at me with his head askew. “I said… he is doing sales. Sales, Master, not scams.”
“They are synonymous. The stores increase the price of products in the days prior so they can claim they are selling for half of it on Black Friday and such.”
Blacky looked at me with eyes about to crystallize all over. “Is your family so poor your mom couldn’t afford the folic acid supplements during the pregnancy?”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I blinked twice. “Sale equals scam. It’s widely known. Just another head of the hydra of inflation.”
“Master, is that an economic statement or a furry statement?”
“Economic,” I communicated, my face contorted in a rictus of aversion.
Blacky raised a single ear. “Is Argentina still trapped in a deadly spiral of printing money and then needing to print more money to pay for the deficit caused by the previous instance of money printing?”
I nodded energetically. “Yes, Argentina is a shining lighthouse in the dark world of economic insecurity. It is full of sirens and often catches fire, but people go to sleep with the reassurance that, tomorrow, prices will surely be higher than today.”
“Blacky approached the edge and stared into the void. “Yes, jumping looks promising.” He mumbled as he contemplated temporal suicide.
We heard the bell from the store and turned to see the Clerk coming to receive us. He was dressed in a white shirt with orange letters and the drawing of a Chihuahua forming part of a logo that said “Scoopers.”
Under the shirt, two big objects seemed to bounce and move around.
“Nice pits.” I said as one of the sweater puppies popped his little head out and yawned.
“Oh yes, they are a nice pair of beasts,” said the Clerk.
“I am sure they will feed on children one day,” I said, looking at the perky bully dogs.
He looked at them with sad eyes. “I am afraid not: Muncher needs live feeding, like a pet snake.”
I was confused, that cannot be. “Picky Labrador’s are a paradox.”
“No, no, you misunderstand me: He will eat anything, but it’s not healthy for him. Living pit bull puppies, like river shrimp for fish, are healthy for Muncher.”
“Can I go in and buy cards already?” I whimpered.
“No. You are a broke ass motherfucker. You need the Warden gifting you GBP to buy your things. Like a welfare leech, but with less annoying children. Where was I before going on the classist rant?”
“Making PETA angry.”
He opened a little floating screen in front of him, probably to check on my balance. “Right, that. If you have enough for a pack, you can get in, otherwise… Whose wallet did you steal?” He dedicated me a stern stare with his angry boxer face.
“Is this because I am Argentinian?” I asked, making my eyes a thin line.
“No, I hate you regardless of the shithole country full of poor, grass-drinking traffic-cone-brains you come from.”
I felt blood rushing to my cheeks. My body was cooperating with the ensuing assholery. “Oh my… call me a grass-drinking retard again, robot-dog mommy.”
Blacky finally snapped. “Wait for me, Saint Peter!” he said before jumping into the void. What an idiot. I rushed to the edge to see him fall. I cupped my hands around my mouth to make the yelling reach him better.
“That line in Shrek 2 is an artifact of translation into the Latin-American version! The original is… something about Elizabeth!”
Shaking his head, the Clerk got back into the store, and I followed.