Lacey invited me to go to Chincoteague Island with a group of her friends. The island where the wild Chincoteague ponies live. I accept her offer and mentally prepare for the trip. I dislike going places and doing things. I wouldn’t have agreed to go if Lacey weren’t beautiful in the same way that the cream in that Cadbury’s chocolate commercial is beautiful. Because she is, I agree to go to the island.
“Lacey, what’s your dog’s name again?” I ask. Lacey looks over at me from the driver’s seat. The small dog sits on the floor in front of me. I hold the dog’s shoulders. The dog has buried his teeth in my left hand, and his facial fur is streaked with a surprising amount of my blood. “His name is Kip,”she says. “Is he biting you?” “Yes.” I say. “Kip is biting me.”
A Fruit Salad of Harm 