‘…goodness God what’re we to do about the dogmen?’ asked the shamble leg man. ‘Let ‘em be’ said the Dejesus, ‘they’re as meek as lambs…’. ‘…yes..’ said the shamble leg man, ‘as long as you keep a fair distance from them’.
The fichus trees that grew behind the aqueduct spread there branches like wayward children begging for clipped cigarettes. The dogmen slept beneath the fichus’ leaves, some so elephantine they scraped against the balustrade running along the aqueduct. Tabriz Azarbayjan-e, read the name penknifed into the tree. The dogmen carved warnings into the fichus trees, ‘bogmen are ninnies, fuck you bogmen, go to hell you bastard bogmen, eat my feces bogeaters’. Dejesus figure if they pretended the dogmen weren’t there, carving warnings into tree bark, sleeping in canvas nest under the fichus’, they’d disappear. The Witness disagreed, ‘the dogmen are cunning looters with a disregard for others, especially Witnesses’. The alms man, fiddling with the brim of his alms cap, said ‘an aimsir fháistineach...’. ‘…leave the bloody Irish out of this...’ said the Witness sternly. ‘…sainmhíniú…!’ whispered the alms man, ‘…sainmhíniú ábhar amadán…! ‘…thing is’ said Dejesus polemically, ‘…it doesn’t matter who or what they are, there here to stay, so we best get used to it’.
The dogmen ate calcareous-algae dredged up from the bottom of the aqueduct. They made sculls from briar root and fichus gum, pitching the wood into hand-sized algae scours. The biggest of the dogmen stood on shore directing the other dogmen, pointing and gesticulating with his chopped pork hands. They bayed like mastiffs, necks twisted, eyes rolling back into the give of their skulls. When they’d brought up enough algae the biggest dogmen let out a piercing whistle, the other dogmen wading slowly into shore, arms battened with green cuprous weeds. They laid out the algae to dry, poaching the hard stems with boiled water drawn from the aqueduct. They ate like thieves, jaws muscling shreds of green milky weed, cheeks swollen red.
The fichus trees that grew behind the aqueduct spread there branches like wayward children begging for clipped cigarettes. The dogmen slept beneath the fichus’ leaves, some so elephantine they scraped against the balustrade running along the aqueduct. Tabriz Azarbayjan-e, read the name penknifed into the tree. The dogmen carved warnings into the fichus trees, ‘bogmen are ninnies, fuck you bogmen, go to hell you bastard bogmen, eat my feces bogeaters’. Dejesus figure if they pretended the dogmen weren’t there, carving warnings into tree bark, sleeping in canvas nest under the fichus’, they’d disappear. The Witness disagreed, ‘the dogmen are cunning looters with a disregard for others, especially Witnesses’. The alms man, fiddling with the brim of his alms cap, said ‘an aimsir fháistineach...’. ‘…leave the bloody Irish out of this...’ said the Witness sternly. ‘…sainmhíniú…!’ whispered the alms man, ‘…sainmhíniú ábhar amadán…! ‘…thing is’ said Dejesus polemically, ‘…it doesn’t matter who or what they are, there here to stay, so we best get used to it’.
The dogmen ate calcareous-algae dredged up from the bottom of the aqueduct. They made sculls from briar root and fichus gum, pitching the wood into hand-sized algae scours. The biggest of the dogmen stood on shore directing the other dogmen, pointing and gesticulating with his chopped pork hands. They bayed like mastiffs, necks twisted, eyes rolling back into the give of their skulls. When they’d brought up enough algae the biggest dogmen let out a piercing whistle, the other dogmen wading slowly into shore, arms battened with green cuprous weeds. They laid out the algae to dry, poaching the hard stems with boiled water drawn from the aqueduct. They ate like thieves, jaws muscling shreds of green milky weed, cheeks swollen red.
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