BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 190
Nobody said a word, but he helped his friend get on the roof of the other car. I
stopped, halfway across the street, and faced them again. “By the way, the dog doesn‟t
speak English. If you get down, for any reason, and I‟m not there to hold him, I bet he‟s
gonna kill your black asses.”
I went back to the house, went inside, got another Coke, and came back out on the
porch. They were all still where I told „em to be. A couple hours later, I let „em all go
home, after warning each one I‟d let Thug kill him if I ever caught his mangy ass around
my house again.
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I was up at the cottage one weekend with my folks. Grandpa Thurston built it
with his own hands the year I was born, and the year after. It‟s a one room cottage with
an enclosed bathroom which makes the rest of the place C-shaped around it. It gained a
screened in front porch a few years after he died, courtesy of my unofficially adopted
Grandpa, Bob McGeorge.
I still drove my Ford, and was up there Friday and all day Saturday with my dog,
Thug. He and I came back late Saturday evening. I think it was because I had a date on
Sunday, but I‟m not positive. I was hungry as hell when we hit Lansing, and I know
Thug was, too. We hadn‟t eaten, really, all day. I went to the north end and stopped at
White Castle, the only place open that late, except for a Mexican restaurant I liked, but
Thug couldn‟t go inside there.
I left him in the car and went in to order some food. I asked for three double
cheeseburgs for myself, and three for him with nothing on „em but meat and cheese.
When I had the food, I went back to the car. Being a pretty damned good guy, I tried to
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