Things just get so bad that you just have to get out, you know? When the hyenas of doom are closing in and you can smell them coming miles away, the right thing to do is leave. So I went to the bus station and bought a ticket for a cross state ride to visit a friend. He had a real name but everyone called him Waterloo, after an incident where he was caught in the sack with another man's wife and it was that night he met his.... Anyway, his right eye still droops a little from the beating. It's the only thing wrong with an otherwise cherubic, consistently happy face. He had huge, radiant corn fed teeth. I swore that if I had to I could read at night just from their rbenevolent glow. I arrived 14 hours after I left, which made for an average speed on the trip of 28 miles per hour. All in all, the bus is a shitty way to travel, but you can't beat the price, or the company. I once took a bus ride to a town in northern Minnesota and fooled around the last 100 miles with a cute gal from Seattle. It sure as hell made the trip run a lot quicker. And when we got off the bus, her mother was waiting and we said out good-by's and I slinked off into the cold Minnesota night. I never saw her again. I don't even remember her name. I doubt I ever knew it. I walked the three short blocks to Waterloo's place. It was a basement apartment in old two story house. I knocked on the door. Waterloo answered the door with his big shit-eating grin. He invited me in and offered me a beer. He was truly a civilized man with good manners, great taste. I sat down on his couch and his dog, Buster, a 80-pound basset hound, came bounding out of the bedroom and and leaped into my lap, crushing both of my testicles. I winced and curled up into the fetal position. Buster apologized by licking my face. "Jesus," I croaked. "He smells like peanut butter." "Yeah," yelled Waterloo from the kitchen. "It's his favorite snack, I guess. Laps it up like there's not tomorrow. Jennie discovered it when she moved in." I began to get my wind back. A numbness had penetrated my whole gut. "Jennie?" I grunted. "Yeah," he said. "My fiancée. You met her at Bill Parker's wedding last summer. Petit, short auburn hair, doe eyes?" "I don't remember much from that night," I said. "You met her in the afternoon." "Figures," I said. "Anyway," he went on, "I can't stand the stuff, but when Jenny moved in, she brought some along, and they found a match made in heaven." "Jennie and the dog?" I asked. Waterloo laughed. "No, Buster and peanut butter." I stood up and stretched. I took a long pull off my beer. "So when do we get cracking?" I said. "In a few minutes Jennie will be home from work, then we can head out," he said. We drank another beer and watched some show on T.V. about crocodiles. Just as the show finished, Jennie came in. Waterloo introduced us, again, and she was very gracious. She was shorter than I figured, but otherwise, she pretty much matched the description. "Where you boys headed?" she asked. "We're going out to Chubby's and other parts unknown tonight," Waterloo said. Jennie took her purse off her shoulder and put it on the table. "What time you two plan on being back?" she asked. "Don't wait up," he said. "O.K.," she said. "I guess it's just me and Buster." The happy couple kissed, I grabbed a beer from the fridge for each of us for the drive and we headed out the door. We hopped in Waterloo's land cruiser and drove downtown to Chubby's. We climbed the long flight of stairs, showed our i.d.s at the door and sat down at a table. The music was playing loud, so loud we could barely hear each other. The waitress arrived and we ordered two beers a piece. "Remember that one waitress that used to work here?" Waterloo askedwith a wink. "The hot one with the blond hair," I said. "Had the whole room suffering from boner shame." "That's the one," he said. "Guess what she's doing now?" "I give up," I said. "She was dancing down at the Rifleman's Club, you know that strip joint on Main?" he continued. "Jesus, I missed that?" I said. "How did she look?" "Fantastic," he said. "Absolutely no tan lines." "No shit?" "Shit." "She looked good?" "Really good," he said. "Could she shake it?" I asked. He took a long drink. He was purposely leaving me in agony. "Not really," he answered. "But she was hot, none the less." "Damn," I said. I drank the rest of my beer and signaled the waitress we'd like another round. She ignored me. The music kept pounding and the waitress kept on walking by. "I've about had it with this place," I said. "You should tip better," Waterloo said. "Let's just go to the liquor store, pick up a case and a bottle and listen to some music at my place." "Will Jennie mind?" I asked. "Shit no, she'll just join in," He said. "She's a fun gal." We hopped into the jeep and drove to the liquor store. He bought a case of Old Mill bottles and I grabbed a half gallon of Jim Beam. We placed them in the back seat and he gave me the scenic tour of the city, behind the packing plant, over the hill by the observatory, and past the two porno stores in town. We popped into the smoke shop to grab a couple extra packs of cigarettes. I'd just opened a couple bottles for the last leg home when Waterloo parked the car with a jolt. "Home , sweet, home," he said. I grabbed the bottle, and he grabbed the case. As we walked down the stairs we could hear Jennie talking behind the door. The dog was barking. "Don't worry Buster," she said. "Mommy's coming back with your peanut butter." "Ain't she sweet," Waterloo said. "Yeah," I said. "Sure. Just open the fucking door. I'm tired from carrying this bottle. I want to drink some of it so it is a bit more manageable." He sat the case down and groped in his pocket for the keys. He opened the door and he stepped in. "Holy shit!" he screamed. I jumped in to see what was the matter. Jennie was standing in the doorway to the kitchen stark naked, except her nipples and her crotch were thickly coated with a layer of peanut butter. "What the fuck is going on here!" Waterloo screamed. Jennie just stood in the doorway shaking, her eyes even wider than normal. "I think I'll wait outside," I said as I took in one last look. She didn't have any tan lines either. I'm a big fan of tan lines. I turned, still gripping the Beam and walked back out and leaned against the jeep fender. Waterloo slammed the door. All I heard from inside was screaming I couldn't understand. I pretty much knew the gist of the shouting match, and that was enough. And as I thought about it, the only of who I could identify with in the whole sordid situation was the dog. I just leaned on the cruiser's fender, smoked and drank under the dark, starry sky. About a half hour later, Waterloo came out the back door, sporting his aw shucks grin and carrying the case of beer. "Maybe we should find someplace else to party," he said. "I've got some pals over by the college." "Sounds o.k.," I said. "How are you?" "Oh you know me," he said. "Like water off a duck's back." I got into the passengers seat and lit a cigarette. "More like peanut butter off your fiancée's tits?" "Shut up, man," he scowled. "I mean it's not too strange," I offered. "I've heard there's all kinds of girls like her on the internet." "Screw you," he said. "Can you tell me one thing?" I asked. "Sure," he said. "Whatever." "Do you think Buster 'put the hound' to her?" He looked me right in eyes. "One more like that one you're walking," he said. I shut up. I didn't feel like walking.