Where Dogs Sweat, Page 2

refrigerator. Not that he spent too much time talking to those drinks. Even in his imagination they were all health nuts and a bit snobbish.

  “All right,” Granny said, picking up Daystar and setting him on the counter. “Let’s get everything we need to make Kool-Aid.” She stepped to the nearest drawer and removed two packets of mix. Then, in the cupboard beneath them, she found an empty pitcher. Setting it next to Daystar, she smiled and said, “Do you want to pour them in?”

  “Yeah,” Daystar said. He loved pouring the powder into the pitcher. Whenever he did, a little red cloud would puff up over the rim. Of course he couldn’t explain why that happened. Nor did he need to. It looked magical, and that was all that mattered.

  “That’s really neat, isn’t it?” Granny said as he stared at the powder suspended in the air. “But it’s still not sweet enough, is it?” she asked, reaching by the coffee pot and grabbing her bag of sugar. She poured in a hefty amount, shook the bag, and decided it was nearly empty anyway so why not dump in the rest? Her daughter would be picking Daystar up in a little while so the added sweetness could only support her claims that something had to be done about his behavior. For the most part he was a good child, but the constant daydreaming and fantasy at his age? If a couple of sugar-induced temper tantrums eventually got him to the doctors it was worth it. She smiled smugly and said, “Now comes the fun part.” Daystar nodded as she picked up the pitcher and sat it in the sink. Turning on the faucet, the two watched as the clear water became flush as it hit the powder and sugar. Just like magic.

  Once the pitcher was full, Granny pulled her wooden spoon out of a drawer and said, “Well, I suppose I’m going to have to mix all this Kool-Aid for you, aren’t I?”

  Daystar shook his head. He loved mixing! Especially when he stirred it fast enough to make a whirlpool.

  “Oh, all right,” Granny smiled. “You stir and I’ll get you a cup with some ice.”

  Daystar took the wooden spoon and started stirring. In seconds, the water went from pink to crimson. Several little drops spattered onto the counter, but Granny didn’t seem to mind. She smiled as he mixed his drink, and then helped him to the table. His usual lunch of peanut butter and jelly with a handful of chips on a paper plate was already waiting for him.

  Of course, before he’d even consider take a bite of his food, Daystar gulped down several chugs of Kool-Aid. The cold, cherry flavor washing the taste of a hot day from his mouth was blissful. Perfect. Without even realizing, he’d downed a third of his glass.

  “My, my,” Granny said. “You must’ve been playing quite a bit outside.”

  “Wow,” Grandpa chuckled. “Save some for the fish.”

  Daystar didn’t get it. “It’s too hot out,” he told them. “Can I play in the sprinkler after lunch?”

  Grandpa set down his newspaper. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It costs too much. We can’t just let water go free like that.”

  Daystar lowered his head. “Please?”

  “No,” Grandpa said again. “Maybe tomorrow after I mow the lawn.”

  “Tell you what,” Granny interjected. She could see how the boy’s eyes were starting to tremble. “If it’s so hot outside, you can stay in here and watch TV.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. But then again, it could be a trick. The last time Daystar was allowed to watch television, Grandpa wouldn’t let him change the channel from golf. And if that was the case, he just assumed go back outside to continue his conversation with the rock. He had to make sure it was a legitimate proposition without any strings attached. “Are you going to watch it with me?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Granny shrugged. “I think Grandpa and I have some grown up stuff to do.”

  “Now, now, Molly,” Grandpa said, not looking away from his paper. “If the boy wants to spend some time with his grandparents, then we really should. One day he’s going to grow up and be too hip for us old farts.”

  Granny rolled her eyes. “We can spend time with him later, Sam. But I was thinking you and I should go take a little afternoon nap. Because of how tired us old farts get.”

  Grandpa stopped reading. There was something to her words. Slowly, he lowered the newspaper and lifted his eyes to Granny.

  She winked and asked, “Did you take all of your pills?”

  Grandpa nodded as his wife blushed. He looked at Daystar said, “Go finish lunch in the den, boy. Turn on the TV.”

  Privileged as Daystar was to be eating on the floor, in front of the TV, Granny still wouldn’t let him watch any cartoons. “They rot your chubby little brain,” she told him. After flipping through several channels, she discovered a show with some sort of diagram of a lake with arrows pointing up toward the clouds. “Ooh,” she said. “Watch this. It’s about the water cycle.”

  From upstairs, Grandpa yelled, “Molly! Molly! I think it’s starting.”

  “Well, that was quick,” Granny said. Then, already leaving the room, she went on to say, “Got to go. You can turn up the TV as loud as you like. Be good!”

  Daystar watched his grandmother dart around the corner. Then, after a few seconds, he heard the bedroom door slam shut. Never, not in a million-trillion years, would he ever be that excited to take a nap. Still, with his grandparents asleep and the TV on, he started to watch as the picture of the cloud became dark and rain poured from it.

  A British narrator explained, “And once back in the rivers and seas, the sun again heats the water, and brings it back to the clouds. Do you remember what this is called?”

  Daystar shook his head and took a bite off the largest chip he could find.

  “Evaporation,” The narrator said as a mass of letters flashed on the screen.

  “Evaporation,” Daystar repeated. This show wasn’t so bad, he decided. He liked all the different blues on the screen. The lake. The rain. Even the background was navy. It was kind of like a cartoon. At least as much of one as he’d get away with in Granny and Grandpa’s house. Maybe he could pretend SpongeBob and Bugs Bunny were duking it out in the rain. With some ninja turtles. And Finn and Marceline.

  Of course, if the television were sentient it would issue a warning. It would tell the little human child to change the channel. To look away. To remain innocent. As this show was a rerun, it would’ve known that this wasn’t merely about the water cycle. It was a documentary on pollution. Specifically, one about how man is poisoning his own water supply.

  As the show went on, Daystar’s conviction of the show being like a cartoon waned. It was just too slow for Adventure Time at Bikini Bottom.

  “There was a time when the water in this cave was fresh and pure as the day the Earth cooled,” The narrator professed. “Now, watch what happens as this cockroach’s clean water supply is replaced with water from the cave.”

  Daystar watched as the cockroach appeared to nuzzle its face into a wet cotton ball. Almost instantly, it flipped onto its back and started flailing its little legs in the air.

  Then the cockroach slowed.

  And then it stopped entirely.

  “Does that look like water you want to drink?” The narrator asked.

  “No,” Daystar whispered.

  The show went on to list diseases caused by water pollution, followed by diagrams of the North and South poles getting smaller and smaller. “And all because polluters do this,” The narrator said. The scene then cut to an image of a clear flowing river. The camera panned to the left, eventually focusing on sewage pouring out of a metal pipe, churning in the river, and turning it red.

  Daystar’s eyes widened. He’d seen something like that before.

  “Further down the river, matters have only become worse.” The scene cut to shots of dead fish scattered around shards of broken glass, paper plates, and other garbage along a shoreline. “Of course the birds that eat these fish are also in danger.” The screen faded to a decaying seagull. Its insides were full of plastic bottle caps and candy bar wrappers.

 
Daystar had to look away from the TV. His eyes fell onto the half empty glass of red Kool-Aid with its ice cubes shrinking, shrinking, shrinking.

  “Oh no,” he whispered. He didn’t have the words for it but the feeling was clear. Granny had tricked him. She taught him to put the red powder in the pitcher. She even fooled him into stirring it.

  It was so obvious. So simple.

  Granny had forced him into becoming a polluter!

  “No,” Daystar shook his head. He stared at his Kool-Aid in disgust. What had he done? What kind of horrible fish and seagull killing beast had he become?

  Just then, he heard Granny and Grandpa screaming and grunting in the other room. Like monsters.

  No, he thought. They must be cackling over new ways to pollute. He had to stop them. He had to save the water. But what could he do? They kept it all somewhere under the house. In the pipes. He’d have to free it somehow.

  Daystar jolted himself into standing. He had a plan and he wasn’t wasting time. In a flash he dashed through the kitchen, slipped on his sandals, and ran out the door.

  Grandpa hadn’t wanted him to use the sprinkler before. And now it was clear why. He and Granny didn’t have time to pollute it yet. Well, his plans were most certainly foiled as Daystar turned on the hose.

  In only a second, the water was freely gushing, spraying, and misting into the backyard.

  “Go!” Daystar screamed. He ran alongside the spray. “Go!” He flailed his arms. “Get