Satan on Coos Bay

A full moon hung in the sky at dawn. Elmer and I walked through Empire on our way to Coos Bay to begin our morning. The sky was beginning to turn pink and orange.

I looked down the block and saw a homeless man walking a white pit bull on a leash perpendicular to my direction. I’d seen them a couple times the past month and both were to be avoided.

The man was yelling something I couldn’t make out. I stopped walking to allow the man and his dog to disappear down the street.

Elmer and I kept going. We rounded a corner where the fishing shop stands. The man and dog had not disappeared. They were across the street, halted, and he was screaming something about Satan to another homeless man carrying a blanket who didn’t respond and detoured away.

The homeless man saw me and turned. His dog saw Elmer and turned. Both went berserk, the dog screeching, lunging, the man screaming at me about his identity as Satan and this was Satan’s dog.

I picked up our pace. Satan and his familiar paralleled us across the street, the dog ratcheting up his menace. I stopped in front of the Dolphin Playhouse to stall for time by checking the playbill: folk act, drag show, 250^th birthday celebration. I turned back around and we continued on our way.

Satan now started yelling something about me being a homeowner and that I couldn’t be his bro. He insulted Elmer’s breed. It appeared as if man and dog were going to cross the street and intersect with us.

We were a block away from the entrance to the boat ramp.

I turned abruptly onto a side street away from the madness. No Coos Bay beach and the rippling sheen of colors on the water this morning, thanks to Satan.