"Who's Duke Nuke 'em?" I asked.
'The dog, dumb ass," Count hovered over me. He poked my chest to emphasize his point. "Believe me when I say he ain't a happy camper. Especially if you wake him from his siesta."
"Mum's the word," I whispered.
"Good," Count patted my back and took the bag from me. "Listen up, when you climb over the top be careful. Cut your hand on a barb, you'll bleed like a pig. Duke Nuke 'em's like a shark. He can smell blood a mile away. Don't rush. Understand?"
"Don't rush," I repeated.
"Whatever happens don't panic. And remember, keep your Gotdamn trap shut. You want to find Duke in a good mood."
"You sure you done this before?" I looked at Shannie for reassurance.
"Of course knuckle head," Shannie smiled.
"What about the steak?" I asked.
"We'll worry about that," Count nodded at Shannie. "Keep a clear head and remember if anything happens - we don't know you. If you rat us out you'll be wearing an arm as a tail. Just keep your trap shut."
The blood drained from my face.
"Get going, we're right behind ya."
"It's a piece of cake James. You can do it," Shannie gleamed.
"You waiting for the leaves to change? Get your ass over that fence!" Count barked.
I scrambled up the fence. As I climbed over the barbed wire, I though how enjoyable it would be to watch Count's fat ass struggle. I made it past the barbs without a scratch. When I got to the ground Shannie and Count were gone - and they took the steak with them. "Hey! You rat bastards, where did you go?" I yelled. My voice bounced off the hill and rained over the junkyard. Duke's dark baritone drowned my echoes. I froze. "This ain't funny, you bastards! " I yelled "Paybacks are a bitch!"
I was launched forward, landing on my hands and knees. I looked up. Count hovered over me. "I told you to keep your mouth shut!"
"How did you get in?"
Shannie laughed. "Through the hole in the fence."
Duke Nuke 'em's barks closed.
"Douche bag, I told you to keep your trap shut."
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"We can't, Duke Nuke 'em will chase us," Shannie said.
"Get in one of the cars," Count ordered. I hesitated. "Run!" he yelled. I ran for a rusted old pickup. I jumped inside the cab. The Rottweiler barreled around a corner. It stopped. Standing its ground it snarled and barked at my friends. Count took a steak from the bag. "Here you go buddy." The dog sat. It drooled eyeing the meat. Count held out the steak. Duke Nuke 'em ripped it from Count's hand.