Janey sat down on the grass. A fireman was shooting a stream of water at the tanker from a big yellow hose trailing behind Mrs. D’s garage. Spot came trotting up with the ball in his mouth. He dropped it at her feet, panting happily, his smiling face turned up to hers. He flopped down, rolled over once and regarded her with his head cocked endearingly. Janey cuffed him on the head.
"Bad doggie!" She gripped Spot by his ears and swung him around so he was standing on his hind feet with his nose pointing at the turmoil across the street.
"See that? That's all your fault, you little turd. If you had give me the damn ball when I ask for it none of this would happen. Next time gimme the damn ball when I ask for it."
Spot whined. She released his ears and shoved him back down beside her. "You better be sorry, mister. You just better. Next time it's curtains for you, pilgrim, you and the horse you rode in on. And I don't think you'd like Kansas all that much. Not while I'm Sheriff of this one-hole town, dad burnit. You better believe it, hoss. You just better believe it!"
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