The inside of Elli’s car glimmered orange light as she lit up her cigarette, and took a long, deep pull of smoke. The engine had been running for half an hour but no heat came from the vent; just the smell of burning. She pulled her coat up around her neck and sucked again on her cigarette. Smoke filled the car obscuring the small peek hole she had scraped in the frosted windshield, making navigation difficult as she rolled through dark neighborhoods on her route. Elli delivered newspapers before people woke for their morning coffee. Christian radio murmured under the sound of her engine, a mix of songs, prayers and commercials for foot massagers, callus removers and orthopedic shoes. Lots of foot trouble among the faithful. She’d roll up in front of a house, crack the window and toss the paper in the general direction of the front door. Sometimes she missed, but never went back.
“That yuppie can just go looking for his damn paper, right Peaches?”
Peaches was her dog, an overfed pug with runny eyes and a cough. He was curled inside her coat, snug on top of her shelf-like belly.
Elli worked the paper route because she was paid in cash and did most of her work in the dark. She claimed to have a bad back, bad feet, carpal tunnel syndrome, emphysema, and halitosis. In reality she was morbidly obese, had acne, thinning hair, a light beard, halitosis and a distribution of moles on her abdomen that when connected with a pen created a profile of Alan Alda. Her morning breath could peel paint, and even Peaches avoided being downwind of her.
She continued on her cold, dark route wiping the fog from the inside of her windshield.
“Motherfucking car,” she cursed as a choir of orphaned Hondurans sang gently from the radio. It was then her felt the thud. Peaches whimpered, and sensing that trouble was about to start, wriggled free of the coat and hid on the floor. Elli stopped, trying to see through the milky windshield for a clue as to what had hit her. She noticed a cloud of steam rising in front of one of her headlights.
“Oh fuck,” she said. Peaches whined as Elli reached for her phone and turned on the flashlight and rolled out of the car to see what she’d done.
An elk lay on the ground, apparently unconscious, it’s torso rising and falling like a bellows and clouds of steam boiling out of its nostrils. Other than being knocked out, it seemed to be okay. Elli poked it with her foot, but it didn’t stir. She shook it with her hand but still nothing. She blew cigarette smoke in its face, but it remained still. Peaches finally ventured out of the car and sniffed at the elk, timidly at first but when the elk didn’t move Peaches worked his way around to its groin and then jumped on top of the animal, rising and falling with its breaths like an otter on ocean swells. Peaches felt like a king, riding atop a mighty beast, no longer having to suffer the sour odors of his owner.
“C’mon Peaches, we have to go.”
Elli was getting nervous, afraid that someone might drive by and want to check on the elk. She didn’t want to draw any attention and needed to finish her route. But Peaches didn’t move.
“Peaches, come!” The dog sat on the elk’s heaving chest.
“Peaches, Godammit! You come here now!” Peaches lay down on the elk, digging his claws into it thick fur.
“You little shit, you’re coming with me!” Elli reached for Peaches and even though he was rotund he easily avoided her. He jumped on and off the elk as she lunged and grabbed at him, never coming close to matching his speed. “Little fucker!”
Elli went back to the car and pulled a bag of Cheetos from the floor. Crinkling the plastic she waved the bag near Peaches.
“C’mon you little shit, want some Cheetos?” A few stale electric orange snacks remained at the bottom of the bag, and she held one out for the dog. He began to move up the elk toward her, but stayed beyond her reach. Elli lunged for him again and slipped on the ice; her feet flying out from under her as if a carpet had been pulled. Her head slammed hard against the curb, and as she slipped into darkness she saw Peaches chasing after the bag she had dropped. She was out cold, and Peaches happily ate the remaining Cheetos, the crumbs and licked the bag clean. Elli remained sprawled on the edge of the road, the LED on her phone still on, her headlights shining on her belly like the lit side of the moon; the elk’s breath laying down a soft fog over everything.
Peaches hopped off the elk and went to Elli, sniffing her crotch. He then returned to the elk and began licking its wet nose. This woke the elk, which jumped to its feet, looking around trying to make sense of things. Peaches murmured and whined, and the elk lowered its head to get a sniff of its new friend. The elk snorted, and Peaches barked enthusiastically. Peaches and the elk ran off into a nearby park, disappearing into the trees.
Elli’s car remained running, headlights on. She remained splayed out on the road, her hand still gripping her phone. On the radio, a commercial promoted Reverend Whitley’s Soothing Foot Cream, “Friends don’t suffer the fate of godless heathens everywhere, call today and order your Reverend Whitley’s foot cream to ease your walk toward paradise. For every one hundred jars sold, the Reverend will donate a free jar to the Honduran orphans to unburden there walk with Jesus.”
Elli came to, and saw stars above her. And she was cold. As she sat up, her head hurt. She felt a large goose egg growing on the the back of her skill. As she blinked herself back into clarity, she noticed the elk was gone. She saw the Cheetos bag, nearly turned inside out, laying next to her. She rolled onto her belly and worked her legs under her, crawling to the car and pulling herself up into the seat. She slammed the door, lit up another cigarette, which glowed angrily as she nearly sucked out all the tar in one go.
As she exhaled she said, “Stupid dog. I hope you freeze to death,” and continued on her route.
Peaches and the elk were companions for many years until Peaches followed a little girl home one day. Her family adopted him and was spoiled with love and treats and finally died happily in his sleep at an advanced age. He was greatly missed.