W
hile I was drawing this, a sandy-haired man came out of the house to the left of where I was sitting, got into the bed of a pickup truck, stood up and shouted out, ‘It’s like totally frikkin’ annoying to be interrupted like in the middle of everything all the frikkin’ time!’
Then the man went inside and a small, dark grey dog with a face like an ugly, little bat came out of the same house and stood on the grass, staring at me.
I stared back at it for a while and then made some dog-friendly whistle noises.
But the animal didn’t respond; didn’t bark, didn’t growl, just stood there staring at me until eventually, bored by its inaction, I ignored it and went back to my drawing.
A Hundred Houses 