Winston McElroy - The brother-in-law

It was dark again, and the temperature had plummeted twenty degrees since Arnie left for the slow trudge through a half mile of melting ice and snow to the airstrip on the edge of the village, and she could hear them coming before they passed the general store and post office. Novlik had a distinctive bark that she could pick out over that of any of the dozens of dogs in town. And it carried for miles through the still sub-Arctic night, booming from his huge hairy chest like a cannon's report as he bounced along happily, sliding here and there on the freshly frozen ice while Arnie ran wearily along behind.

In a few minutes, they were pounding on the front door, then bursting in like a couple of carefree kids, slinging slush and snow all over the floor as Novlik shook his heavy fur clean.

"No! Not here! Outside, Novlik, outside!" she shrieked.

Arnie only laughed, but at least stepped back onto the front steps to kick the ice from his boots. "Don't scold him, Flo. It'll melt… He's just happy to see you, that's all. Tell him you missed him, and give him a little pat on the head."

Flo obliged, knowing that to snub Arnie's dog would be a terrible mistake. Sometimes she wondered how she ranked in this household – whether she was around for Novlik's convenience, or him for hers.

"As soon as you get your wet things off, come on in the kitchen. I've got some steaks on the broiler right now."

"I hope you saved one for Novlik. He's probably awfully hungry after his adventure. Gus told me he hadn't eaten a thing since they picked him up last night at the Mountie Station."

"Mountie Station?" questioned Flo, "I thought he was at the vet's."

Arnie dropped his boots by the heater grill, and closed the hall door. "He was. But the vet had to leave rather unexpectedly, so he dropped him with the RCMP outfit in Old Crow, so he wouldn't have to leave him alone out at the kennel. Good old Gus, he had enough sense to ask around when he got there and the Doc's place was all closed up. One of the vet's neighbors told him where to find Novlik, and he went back into the village and picked him up. He said the Mounties hated to see him go… They don't have any dogs there since they switched to snowmobiles. Some of the old-timers said it was like the old days, having a malamute around again."

Florence was tempted to say the Mounties could have kept the beast, as far as she was concerned, but she thought better of it, and pulled another steak from the refrigerator for him.

Novlik immediately caught the scent of raw meat, and bounded into the kitchen like a charging lion, his thick furry tail wagging excitedly. Flo tossed it to him quickly, before he could jump up on her with his huge paws. She was still carrying a bruise on her side from the last time she'd fed him. It was no use complaining to Arnie about his dog's over enthusiastic friskiness; that dog could do no wrong in Arnie's eyes.

Novlik pranced into the back bedroom, the one he usually had all to himself, and contentedly began working on his two pound steak, pulling it apart with his sharp teeth, the bone crunching easily in his powerful jaws.

Arnie and Flo finished their dinner without another interruption, and settled in the living room afterward, the supper dishes still on the table.

"I told Gus to come right over," said Arnie, "I told him that hot cunt of yours needed some attention, and you'd picked him to do the job."

Flo nearly dropped her gin-and-tonic. "You what!? You didn't really say that did you? Well, did you?"

Arnie was nearly doubled with laughter. "Oh, baby, you should have seen the look on your face. I'd have given a hundred bucks to have a picture of that. You really fell for it, didn't you?"

"Well, it sounded like the kind of thing that twisted mind of yours would dream up," exclaimed Flo, "and besides, with you I never know when you're putting me on."

Arnie downed the last of his bourbon, and helped himself to another healthy slug from the bottle on the counter separating the living room from the kitchen. "I should have told him. It would be a whole lot simpler."

"Oh, no you don't, Arnie Dennison," threatened Flo, waving her fist in a gesture of mock defiance. "You stay out of it. All you have to do is lay the groundwork – the rest is up to me. It wouldn't be any fun your way. Getting there is half the fun."

Arnie looked at his wife, wondering how most men would feel about a woman like her; a woman who needs more than one man to keep her satisfied. Sometimes he wondered how many men Flo would have if they lived somewhere else, Los Angeles maybe. Just how many one-nighters would she give herself if there were hundreds of men around for the taking? It didn't really bother him, and that was what puzzled him most sometimes. He was supposed to be jealous and possessive about his woman, at least that was what he'd always been told. But with Flo, it was something different, something exciting, and most of all, completely open and honest. There wasn't any sneaking around in their marriage; everything was done right out in the daylight, with no lies, no excuses.

Of course, he'd never been the ideal devoted husband, either. When the opportunities were there, he'd never been one to turn down a little on the side. And he'd have done a lot more of it if running his company hadn't always taken so damn much of his time.

Flo was getting drunk now, he could always tell. He listened as her words began to blur a little around the edges, and her sentences occasionally took on extra verbs and adjectives. It never took much – Flo'd never been one to hold her liquor; two or three drinks, and she was under the table.

"You really think that good-looking Swede wants to get in your pants, huh?" he teased, ready for a little fun to keep the evening interesting. "What makes you think you've got anything he wants? You're not quite the little dish you used to be, ya know. Why should he mess around with an old woman like you."

"Old woman!" Arnie sensed he'd struck a tender nerve. "Who the hell's an old woman!? Why, I've got a better body than most girls ten years older than me…"

"You mean ten years younger, don't you, baby?"

Flo thought it over a second. "Yeah… that's what I meant to say… Anyway, you know what I mean. Here, take a look at this… Is this the body of an old woman?"

She yanked her housedress over her head, and she was wearing nothing underneath, not even panties.

"Goddamn, woman. Is that the way you run around all day? No wonder you're always so horny, galavantin' around with no drawers on. Where's your pants, cunt? Ain't you got any?"

Flo left the dress where it fell, right in front of her on the floor. "Of course I've got some. For your information, Mr. Wise-ass, I was getting ready to take a bath when you and that furry brother of yours came in. That's why I don't have any underwear on, all right?"

"Furry brother, huh? You calling me a son-of-a-bitch?" asked Arnie, staring her right in the face as though he meant it.

"Baby, if the shoe fits, wear it," laughed Flo, lifting her large, firm tits with both hands and aiming them tauntingly in Arnie's direction. "Hey, here comes your brother now. Here, boy! Come see the other SOB! Here, boy!"

Novlik took his cue like a veteran, and bounded into the living room at full speed, barking loudly as he cleared the length of the room in three huge leaps.

"No, Novlik! Don't jump! Don't…" but it was too late. Flo had forgotten her hard-learned lesson; that was, never to call the enormous animal unless she was prepared to be knocked for a spin. He slammed into her chest with his tremendous furry paws and sent her sprawling onto the bearskin in front of the fire, arms and legs flying in every direction, and Novlik – all one-hundred-and-fifty pounds of him – right on top of her.