angry veins, cold moon, dog poo 

angry veins, cold moon, dog poo

(mateo's turn)
walter scratched his arm and scanned with empty eyes around the neighborhood, trying to look at once aloof and innocent as he searched for a bag. he cringed to imagine the confrontation about to spill off the edge of his evening: "you think i want your dog's shit all over my yard? use a bag for christ's sake...i can't believe the nerve of you people...if you can't be responsible for your dog..." he saw angry veins in a neck, a cold moon, a pile of steaming dog poo, and his own ashamed mutterings of inexplanation. walter could anticipate self-loathing for any event.

with a grunt, the owners van disappeared behind the garage door, leaving walter alone with his dog and their guilt. "thank god for the unassertive" he thought to himself, trying to muster a taste of indignation he knew he didn't deserve. but the thought dissolved in his pulsing head, which spinned like a ferris wheel in one step, a merry-go-round the next. he started toward home, tugged his jacket sleeve down, and took the Servant St. alley toward Snappy Mart. there was something he needed to pick up on the way...