“Nothin' 'citing happens 'round here,” Dwayne mumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The toothpick he had been chewing for the last couple of hours had lost its taste. Like everything. He spat it onto the sidewalk and kept on shuffling his way down Saginaw Street.
A spiteful wind snapped at his nose.
“Damn,” he muttered as he dropped his head to protect his face from the piercing cold. Dwayne's wife, Thelma, needed something from the convenience store and he needed something else. A desire to be distinct, to stand out...not just another egg in the blender.
A distant car horn distracted him from his self-absorption. He jerked his head up, but the determined wind slapped his face forcing his attention to a vision down the street. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment so the apparition would disappear. Slowly, he opened one eye and then the other. What the hell? It did not make sense. About three blocks down, he thought he saw a hippopotamus charging up the roadway.
“Oh, my God!” a woman screamed. The few people who loitered outdoors scrambled to safety inside their homes. Dwayne looked back. He was far from salvation, so he picked up his pace to a fast walk. As he turned his head once again, his very being was taken over by fear. The huge monster was closing in on him. He felt the invisible hand of self preservation push him on. The hippo's easy trot advanced into a gait.
Oh, God...I'll be good if you let me live through this.
Believing that Africa's most savage animal did not have his intelligence, Dwayne zigged and zagged to avoid the deadly stalker. The huge animal continued a steadfast speed. The thin air burned Dwayne's lungs as he raced down the street. He heard the hippo's massive feet scratch the tar as it neared.
I wanna do better at work, clean out the gutters on my house and stop drinking.
If this were a movie, the music would drown out the sound of the approaching behemoth and the camera would close in on Dwayne's eyes and the sweat bleeding from his brow. If this were a movie, he would sprout wings and swoop above the clouds. But this was not a movie and the beast with the bulging eyes and flaring nostrils quickened to a run.
“Anthony! Anthony!” a big man wearing a striped yellow turtleneck yelled as he called to his dog. The dachshund scampered into the hippo's path and was flattened under the marauding creature's step. The man dropped to his knees, his face in his hands, and whimpered the deceased dog's name.
I have a family...I want to tell them how much I love them.
Dwayne spotted a garbage truck parked on the side. He dove underneath, just a moment before the giant herbivore crashed into the vehicle, lifting the truck on its side. The hippo shook its head and opened its mighty mouth, exposing four incisors as big as cinder blocks.
The animal snorted and lowered its head readying for another charge. Dwayne rolled and
clambered up onto a lawn, stumbling his way to the front steps of the home.
“Get away!” A woman demanded hiding behind a screen door. She opened it slightly and threw some heavy pots and pans at Dwayne.
“I'm sorry, Mister,” she cried hurling a carton of milk. “Just go! I've got children in here!”
I'm all alone here...God I am begging you.
The hippopotamus's ominous grunts spurred Dwayne to his feet. He stared at the five thousand pound quadraped as it scraped its hairless hide on the side of the four-wheeler, causing a solitary tire to spin. The quiet of the neighborhood was in stark contrast to Dwayne's pounding heart. For a moment, the world was in suspended animation. The hippo's stare was fixed on the lonely human. It dropped its head, snorted, and rammed the side of the house, missing Dwayne by only a few inches. He ran back into the street and the lumbering creature followed.
I want to be someone before I die! I want to count for something!
The end was in sight. Up ahead, about fifteen yards away, a police car blocked the roadway. Hunkered over the hood, an officer aimed a rifle. If only, Dwayne thought, if only... He gathered up all the strength he had and raced toward the black and white. He heard the hippopotomus's ardent steps coming up on him. The cop sprinted away, his night stick slapping his butt as he ran.
Dwayne's efforts devolved into an existential slow motion as the animal caught up and Dwayne fell down. He did not have time to recognize the heavy hoof upon his back. Dwayne exploded in all directions.
The next day, the newspaper mentioned Dwaye's death, but mispelled his name. The front page, however, was dedicated to Anthony, the heroic dachshund, who tried to stop the marauding mammal's rampage. The hippopotamus has never been caught.


The End
I wish I could write like that. I have so much stuff bouncing around in my head, but I can't get it on paper. Do you have anything published?
You are so kind to say that. Years ago, I was published...just starting up again. You dont know how happy your comment makes me.
A lot of magazines publish short stories , like a page or two. You should submit something to some of them. 

http://thewritelife.com/where-to-submit-short-stories/
http://letswriteashortstory.com/literary-magazines/

That should give you something to think about :lol:   
Wow Rainy that is quite a heart pounding story.  I must say it keeps you on the edge of your seat.  Well your writing is wonderful and exceptionally descriptive and I certainly could see every fast paced moment as clearly as if I was there involved in it.  The only thing I would like to critique would be the ending.  For me I was disappointed that Dwane never got away...I was thinking you would throw in a quirky sort of get awayinto it and I waited with anticipation only to find myself feeling a bit sad. I loved the idea of the dashund getting the praise that was super...but Dwane was the real hero and that is where for me it needed to just that little something.  As a writer myself I sure can say that you really do have a lot of talent and a fantastic passion.....keep this up rainy....love reading them....always hugs...fern
You comments were wonderful and deeply appreciated. If you have ideas for a better ending, I would love to hear them. Thanks again
Rainy starts with location and atmosphere so you have a sense of where you are and who you are seeing. We might fill in the character from memory, but I bet everyone of us are on that street watching. Even if our street looks different. This is what writing is about.
It is always hard when we want to honestly express ourselves without hurting the other person.  And yet I feel honest feed back helps us become the best we can be.  Others may have liked the ending but as I know you for me I was thinking "Rainy with her beautiful sense of humour and wonderfully active mind is going to come up with an ending that never even entered my own small brain.  I think that is what I am basing my critique on is your amazing wit and imagination.  But you know what really counts luv....is if you like the ending....it is your wonderful story and deserves great praise....hugs  ..Fern
Love your writing Rainy! A Hippo on a street rampage gives a man his wish to be different. Only you can create something so surprising, so different, so enjoyable.
Thank you so much, con
Okay Rainy, here is an alternate ending. 

As Dwane lay there the hippo overshot its mark just missing him, he could smell it's anger as he rolled to his feet and ran down an alley and jumped into the first dumpster he saw. He lay in the middle padded in foul smelling garbage as the hypo piled into it sending it rolling down the alley safe in the knowledge it could no longer smell his fear. Heart pounding he decided it was better to be a live coward smelling like stale coffee grounds and grease than a flattened piece of rat bait. As for the hypo it stumbled into the river and drifted away only to die of pollution and feed the seagulls.

Did I get this close to your style?  
That was great, davit. Gives me a lot to think about. We could be a writing team
Let me step over the line and say I know who Dwane is. And there are lots of Dwane's on this site.
Rain, your skill amazes me. 

Vee 
Great stuff, rainy. I feel as if I've just pulled up a seat to an old episode of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone. 

I'm happy to say I just found my way to your blog via your profile (was kind of afraid to clink on the link, we seem to know some of the same people... ), and I really enjoy the fictitious humor, sometimes macabre themes with the unexpected twist.

Amazing talent!
  
    
cron