Bingo And The Rib Eye
By Antonios Maltezos
She didn’t want to pass it under the tap water. It would lose its flavor. Still, he’d feel the grit between his teeth if she didn’t and guess his rib eye touched the floor before going on his plate. Maybe she could pass it under the water and then cut it in pieces, fancy it up with some onion and bacon, serve it to him in a sandwich? She could even fry him some eggs on the side. That would be a lot of work, she thought.
"Oh, Bingo,” she whispered, scratching the dog behind the ears with her free hand. “He’s gonna kill me.”
When Bingo didn’t react, she showed him the steak. “What should I do, Bingo, boy?”
She knew the dog didn’t mind about the dirt. He’d wolf it down if she let him. She knew that. “Don’t be bashful,” she told him. “Go on!”
Once the dog had the steak in his mouth, she started counting. “One, two.” He was taking it outside. “Three, four.” Why’d she always have to be at fault? “Five, six, seven.” She could already hear her husband yelling. “Eight, nine, ten.”
“Bingo,” she yelled, “come back with your daddy’s supper!”
He could blame the dog and hang him, for all she cared.
Antonios Maltezos has flash fiction in SmokeLong Quarterly, Thieves
Photo "Rumpel" courtesy of Darek Tyka, Cracow, Poland.
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