A work of fiction By Bad-Dawg
They are there, in the dark and their eerie sounds haunt me to this day. This is not a myth. This is fact. And I am scared.
It all started in the ‘80s. In San Bernardino, CA. San Bernardino is a sleepy city in the Inland Empire, known for oranges, lowered Chevy’s and the first stop on old Route 66 from LA. People don’t normally go there, but pass through on the interstate highways which all seem to connect there. There has been tremendous growth in the area, oranges lemons and grapefruits have been giving way to an onslaught of strip malls, apartments and cracker-box houses.
Due to a large Latino community, and the small yards, Chihuahuas have long been a favorite dog in this town. Many are well cared for little hellions and are loved by their masters. Many have gone to the dark side…
I had seen them before, packs of 10 or 20 of them running along in the alleys behind such places as Gazzolo’s German Restaurant on East Highland Ave, fighting over the used sausage casings, or near the dumpsters at Gus Jr. But I didn’t know they were spreading and mutating.
I found out about this strange mutation going on the hard way. My wife and I went to visit our friends Jeanne-Marie and Matt and we had a great time. But around 4 Am I was restless and decided to take a walk through the neighborhood along Waterman St. I was just quietly strolling along when one of these packs came into view down the road. At first I thought I was seeing a fur ball of cats and wanted to get a better look so I crossed over the roadway and approached them. But they were small and it was dark. Then I thought they were big rats and got a little nervous but wanted to see what they were doing so I continued creeping along, unnoticed. That was when I realized they were Chihuahuas and they were on top of something. There was a bit of snarling going on and I thought it was a trash bag, but wasn’t quite sure. So I got closer. And that’s when I figured it out.
They were not Chihuahuas at all and it was not a trash bag. It was a human, a homeless person and they had taken him down and were fighting over his organs. I think I screamed at that point because they were suddenly aware of me and I saw their red eyes for the first time. Glowing with an inner darkness, snarling bloody fangs dripping gore on the white concrete near Dunkin Donuts. Those beady eyes bored into my skull and I knew the truth. The mark of the Beast was on them, they were ChupaChihuahua and they were onto me.
I took off running and about 20 of them gave chase. I was running fast and these little demons were going to catch up. I knew I was doomed but kept running towards the San Bernardino Medical Center. I ran towards the white lights as fast as I could. Like Jesse Owens, my shoes were smoking on the pavement. I ran up to the large Iron fence and threw myself into the air and just managed to grab the top rail. One of the Chupas grabbed my right heel and I screamed at the top of my lungs and flailed like a Crack Whore being arrested.
I managed to kick it loose and bleeding profusely I clambered up and over, Thanking the Gods for the 3 feet of brick at the bottom of the fence. They were snarling and leaping at the fence with all their dark might but couldn’t make it over the bricks. I laid there on the ground for a moment and looked at the crazy sight before me These were not dogs anymore. They were hateful and mean and they had small horns. They were singed from the fires of hell and I was bitten from their poisoned, fowl mouths. The one I had smashed was cowering at the curb and the others turned on it and tore it to pieces.
I took this to mean I could go and ran to the ER. There was a little old man out front who had watched the whole thing and he said to me, “You were lucky, most people don’t make it”. And to this day, my heel festers, pulsing with the demon poison. I hope I don’t change into one…
Fiction: Copyright Badawg