"EVIL DOESN'T WEAR A MASK. IT BOLDLY 'HIDES' IN PLAIN SIGHT. GIVE IT AN INCH, AND IT'LL TAKE MORE THAN YOU EVER IMAGINED." -GE PHILLIPS

"The neighbors called to complain about Sparky barking all night," Iris Evol said to her husband, Ben, as he chowed on cereal in his burgundy bathrobe and slippers and she prepared their children's lunches for the day.  

"Which neighbors, the Robinsons, the Jeffersons or the new ones?" he asked menacingly.  

"The new ones. Across the street. Everyone else is too afraid of you," she said, a warm smile across her face as she finished her task at the counter island of their kitchen. 

He let out a single, derisive, "Ha!" Then muttered, "They should be."

"I'll take care of it," he finally announced, finishing his cereal before heading upstairs to the closet inside the master bedroom.

Following him a ways, Iris walked down the long, beige hallway from the kitchen, dining room, and den to the stairs leading upstairs. "Timmy! Laura! Your lunches are ready!" Iris raised her voice to be heard through the teenagers' bedroom doors.

In the gun locker in the master bedroom closet, Ben pushed past his black, FBI-issued Glock 22 -which rested snugly in its shoulder holster, its strap draped over a hook at the top of the gun locker. Just beyond, he resolutely grabbed her, -Daisy: a chrome .44 Magnum revolver, polished to a mirrored shine.

"Hello beautiful," Ben whispered, glossy eyed, to the only woman he'd ever loved. "–Oop!" he let slip as he heard the Arlington Middle School bus #97 round the far corner and screech down Timid Deer Lane, their street. Daisy in hand, he pocketed his flip-open FBI ID badge, his keys, and he ran downstairs and outside, still in his bathrobe and slippers.  

Once outside, Ben grabbed the worn, green Kevlar leash hanging on the pine side gate to the backyard.  The leash was worn because it had been used (mostly by Timmy) nearly every day since they adopted Sparky as a newborn two years ago.  Leash in hand, he then unlocked the gate. Oblivious and ready for even the shortest of morning walks, Sparky came running out of the backyard like it was his life's mission to see the front yard today. Ben nimbly caught the auburn Collie/Australian Shepherd mix by the collar, and he put Sparky on the leash -just as bus #97 was a few houses away. At a mere 20 lbs, Sparky couldn't really drag a 250 lb. Ben anywhere, but with Ben acquiescing and Sparky pulling the way up the driveway, Ben walked to his black, FBI-issued Chevy Suburban, leaned in, and started it –leaving his keys in the ignition.  

Ben knew the new neighbors had a boy who rode bus #97, because he had seen the bus pick the boy up in front of the Evol house the day before, on the wide sidewalk, where a kid from across the street would have to wait for the bus.  The boy looked back at Ben when he heard the Suburban that was black death start. 

Ben closed the Suburban's door. He grabbed Daisy, waved at the boy with Daisy in hand, and pleasantly said, "Howdy! I'm Ben Evol. Be sure to tell your parents I said 'Hi!'"  The neighbor kid's eyes were transfixed on the gun in Ben's hand as he turned and pulled Sparky around the back of the Suburban –just as bus #97 stopped to pick him up. Just then, Ben and Daisy shot Sparky. It was one shot in the head at point blank range, the revolver's loud, "BANG!" only slightly muffled by the close proximity to Sparky's head.

The new neighbor boy ran onto the bus, a hand to his mouth as if to prevent himself from vomiting. Everyone on the bus who had heard the gunshot, including the female bus driver, was looking around for the source of the sound.  Ben was still bent over behind his Suburban (out of sight), listening to what was said on the bus.  

They finally asked the new neighbor boy what was the matter. And he said, "That crazy man just shot his own dog!"

That was Ben's cue. He dropped the leash and appeared next to the Suburban, walking towards the still waiting bus -with his hands up in a calming gesture and his FBI ID out. But before the bus driver saw his ID, she saw Daisy in the waistband of the shorts in his open robe. Remembering the gunshot she heard earlier, she closed the door and floored it. She had children to protect after all.

Ben silently cursed as she sped away. He pocketed his ID and quickly ran to his still running Suburban, turning on his lights and sirens. He gave chase. It didn't take long to catch up to Arlington Middle School bus #97 because the driver was still trying to pick up the kids on her route –just at an increased "spooked" speed. When he finally pulled her over, he thought for an instant about leaving the Suburban with Daisy in the front seat, but then he remembered that he loves Daisy, and Daisy loves him.

Ben looked as dignified as possible in a burgundy bathrobe and slippers as he approached the bus. His FBI ID up and open, he knocked on the door and she opened it.

"Oooooo," some of the kids chanted, excited to see their bus driver get in trouble.

"Do you know how fast you were going in between stops?" Ben asked.

"I…I just, saw your gun. And heard that gunshot. I was worried about the children… sir." The bus driver responded. She was still keeping one eye on Daisy, and another on this undressed officer of the law.

"Ah, yes. My dog was sick, you see. Feral. He was trying to bite everyone and had to be put down. Possibly had rabies. That was the gunshot you heard," Ben stated.

"Oh, I see! I'm sorry to hear that. The same thing happened to my sister's dog, Rudy, I think. What a misunderstanding… These children's lives are really important to me. I'm so sorry for speeding," she said.

"Ok. I'll let you off with a warning," he said, knowing that FBI agents couldn't even write tickets the way the Arlington PD could. "Just remember that the speed limit in this neighborhood has been changed from 30mph to 20mph, so you be careful now." He winked at her, all charm, as he lied about the speed limit.

"Yes, SIR!" She said playfully, saluting. Some of the kids laughed. She opened the door, he got in his Suburban, and drove home. Meanwhile, the bus driver continued on her route… slowly.

Back at the Evol House, Timmy left his room at the sound of a "BANG!" He had his orange and grey bulletproof book bag on backwards, so it was covering his chest instead of his back. Laura came out of her room next door and was not amused to see him creeping down the hallway armored. 

"Argh. I swear Timmy! Every time you hear a gunshot, you assume Dad's gone crazy and decided to kill us all. Get-this-through-your-14yr-old-head: He. Does. Not. Care. About. Us." 

"That is precisely what has me worried..." 

"Timmy dear! I need to speak with you!" Iris raised her voice from the bottom of the stairs. After he ditched the book bag, Timmy met his mother downstairs. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Timmy, honey. You know what it is that I do for a living right?" she asked. 

"Yeah, you're a district attorney," he said, fearing where this conversation was heading.

"Right. And your father is in Internal Affairs at the Bureau," she stated, dancing around the point.

"Yep," he said, thinking about the gunshot, and feeling like he'd forgotten something very important.

"Well sometimes, your father and I need to do things that are neither nice, nor comfortable, but are necessary. And you'll need to learn to do them too one day," she said with a lopsided grin. 

At that moment he knew something, he just didn't know what he knew. 

And then his mother broke the embrace.

"Today you start. Now be a dear, and get a garbage bag to put Sparky in until you can bury him afterschool," she said plainly.

He felt fried inside.

Laura walked past him, having overheard and sensed his mood, "Aww, don't spaz. They're just gonna buy you another therapy dog you aspie asshole" she said, jealous of both the attention Timmy just got from their mom and the attention his diagnosed condition afforded him. 

*    *    *     

Timmy was glad that nobody helped him bury Sparky that night, because they didn't get to see him crying the entire time. It wasn't raining. 

As he grabbed Sparky's worn, green Kevlar leash, in order to keep it, Timmy said to himself, "Never again,"  Then it occurred to him –that he had never seen a single member of his family shed a tear for another living thing. Not even once. Timmy was different from his family. He was even beginning to understand how he was different, and it wasn't his Asperger's.  

The next day, Ben decided to take Timmy shopping.  And Timmy knew better than to refuse an entreaty from his father, so shopping they would go.  First, they went to 7Eleven to get gas.  They filled up Ben's FBI-issued Suburban.  Ben paid on the inside.  Then, they went to a massive red brick Shop Rite to get groceries.  But when they got to the cashier, Ben realized he didn't have his wallet.  He reloaded the groceries back into the cart and went back through the aisles of the store with Timmy.  A moment later they went to self check-out.  Ben put the groceries on the gray self check-out kiosk, one by one, without ever initializing a purchase.  He proceeded to nonchalantly put the groceries in beige bags and then in the red cart.  They calmly exited the store. As they were exiting Shop Rite, Timmy just shook his head as his father took advantage of the store's lax security.  

While on the way to the Suburban, Ben got a call from 7Eleven letting him know they had his wallet.  Then, driving back to the 7Eleven, Ben got pulled over by Arlington PD for speeding. But Ben knew ninety percent of the beat officers in town and talked his way out the ticket, by saying "C'mon. I wouldn't give you a ticket Tony. C'mon." 

When Ben and Timmy both got back to 7Eleven, the guy that called Ben was not there.  He got his wallet back, but without any money in it.  And Ben went supernova.

Ben lost it, shouted and raved at the Middle Eastern guy working the counter, "Where is MY MONEY? Do you have MY MONEY? Where. Is. MY. MONEY?"  

Ben then grabbed him and pulled him over the counter, growling, "I want my two hundred dollars," an inch away from his face. 

Timmy backed away from this scene and sensed something at the back of the store.  At first the Middle Eastern guy didn't want to open up the cash register to Ben. He changed his mind when he saw Ben's FBI-issued Glock 22 hanging from its shoulder holster.  What Timmy noticed at the back of store is that the owner had a silver shotgun aimed at his father, but Timmy was in the way.  The store owner motioned for Timmy to move.  Timmy took a long look back at his father as the Middle Eastern guy working the counter emptied the cash register of its twenties.  Timmy moved.  At that moment, Ben looked back and saw the silver shotgun and then reached for his Glock.  The store owner fired, hitting Ben in the heart.  Ben fell over, dropping his Glock and Timmy rushed to his father's side, kicking the Glock away on purpose.  

As Ben was bleeding out, his last word was, "Daisy," and he pointed towards the suburban expecting Timmy to get Daisy for him from under the driver seat. Timmy looked in his father's eyes, his hand on his father's cheek, and just shook his head, crying a little.

A police officer friend of the family later discussed the robbery with Iris, and showed her the security cam footage of Timmy moving out of the way. And when he kicked the glock she stiffened. She fossilized the tape with her gaze. Her son, her own boy had helped this foreigner kill Ben. Her beautiful beloved Ben.

Later when she asked Timmy during dinner why did he not warn his father, he said, "Well, I was just doing one of those necessary things you mentioned Mom." 

She never forgot that.

"I'm so sorry Sparky. But thank you." Timmy whispered to his Sarge™ German Shepard Beanie Baby as he curled into a ball in bed that night.

*This chapter is loosely based on true events. Dedicated to the victims of 'Paths everywhere (Canine and otherwise).*