Everyone in Bloomfield listened to the radio. By the time Whiskey Jay and The Honker were done with the traffic report, people all up and down Main Street knew about the rabid dog.

Huge sucker, they said. Mouth foaming like he’s on a steady diet of Crest and Cool Whip. Brown coat, brown eyes, and dingy yellow teeth.

Greggy Bowens clutched the neck of his dog Chuck as the young mutt bled out on the parking spot in front of Ryerson’s Hardware. People cheered and clapped as Old Man Dodger lowered his hunting rifle and confirmed his kill from nearly a block away.

Mike Harrison’s shoes were on fire. He stomped and stomped, but each smack against the pavement made the flames spread to the cuffs of his pants.

P.J. Combs was being stalked by a very determined speedboat. He didn’t like it one bit. Anyone close enough to P.J. could see the beads of sweat glisten on his forehead as he hurried across the sidewalk. But no one could miss the small floating speedboat that bobbed along behind him.