Davin and I had fallen asleep on the couch, halfway through a movie marathon. The TV was still playing trailers for something we were never going to watch, and the popcorn bowl was tipped over between us. It must’ve been close to 1 a.m. when a loud knock rattled the door.
“Davin,” I mumbled, still wrapped in a blanket burrito. “Someone’s at the door.”
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Seriously? At this hour?” He shuffled over to answer it while I peeked sleepily over the couch cushions.
He cracked the door. “Yeah?”
A familiar voice came through the screen. “Hey, come gimmie a push.”
Davin squinted into the dark. “Tio, are you drunk? Man, go home. It’s the middle of the night.”
He shut the door and plopped back down beside me, muttering, “Everyone probably tipped him with too many shots at Wayo’s again.”
I sat up. “C’mon—what if Tio actually broke down? He’s my brother. We gotta go check. What if he really needs help?”
Davin sighed the sigh of someone who knew he was about to get dragged into something ridiculous. But he got up, and we walked out the front door together.
Parked right in front of the house was his cart, just sitting there with the headlights on.
I looked around, confused. “Dennis? Where are you?” I called out into the quiet night.
“Over here,” came the voice—oddly, from the backyard.
We glanced at each other, then circled around the side of the house.
“Tio, where?” Davin called.
The motion lights came on as we got closer—and there Dennis was, sitting on Milaine’s swing set.
“C’mon, guys,” he grinned. “Gimmie a push.”
The events and characters depicted in Wolfe’s Woofer by Melody S. Wolfe are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The column is intended for satire and entertainment purposes only.
