Fiction: You need a dog

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Wisewebwoman and is hosted at Elephant's Child's blog over here. This week's prompts are: jail, bar, dump truck, asphyxiate, herring and/or kiwi, bowling, rifle range, permit, daiquiri.

Fiction: You need a dog
Stanley Storm had been getting messages from god since he was ten. They weren't always direct, wise or useful but they would always give Storm something to think about. And they would always come from unexpected places.
    On the Wednesday morning Storm turned 38, he was making vanilla cake like always when something on the box made the crinkle between his eyes deepened. Ever since he turned 30, the messages had not been coming so he had thought he didn't need them anymore. As it was not his usual brand of ready-made cake mix, he had to read the instructions. At the end, there was this: Ask not why your wife doesn't love you, ask why she wanted your passcode. Storm had a sudden memory of his wife, Joy, asking him for the code to his safe in his home office. She had never bothered with such things as he gave her enough each month to buy three cars.
    At first, Storm just stood there, almost asphyxiated from holding his breath. The next moment he was in his office with the safe opened, empty of everything. He cursed. Joy wasn't usually home during the mornings as she liked to get a massage in before breakfast. With some hesitation, he called the police and then his lawyer. Why didn't he see past Joy's cheerful disposition? She was always smiling even when she burnt a finger.
    After the calls, Storm sat on the wicker chair, the one Joy had insisted on buying when they first got married. It was comfortable but appeared rather shabby surrounded by all the modern furniture. When they were at the store, Joy had sat on the chair and her curly hair had bounced around her face making her appeared like a child. Storm had never seen her so happy. But that was 9 years ago. Joy started straightening her hair so it would never bounce. Anything she brought was of superb taste and expensive such as the weekly shipments of premium herrings and daily visits to spas. The only luxury he gave himself was installing a bowling alley above the house.
    A week afterward, Joy was caught with Storm's accountant, Fred, and Storm and Joy's son, Jason. Storm didn't prosecute as he didn't want his son to see his mother in jail. Later, Joy revealed Jason was Fred's son. Storm had Jason and his DNA tested. When he got the test back, he cried. He should have suspected it since Jason was allergic to kiwi and Storm wasn't but Fred was. Perhaps Jason knew because he certainly didn't like Storm and showed it at every instance. Three days after, Storm gathered up all of Joy's and Jason's things in a dump truck and took them to a rifle range and used them as target  practices.
    When he was young, Storm was ruthless in getting what he wanted. He had convinced himself it was the fault of the class system that made him what he was. When he was twenty, he got into a car accident and was rescued by a fireman. The fireman said to Storm, "You know, it's easy to be a jerk but it's harder to be kind." It was then that Storm realized he needed to change his ways and he did. But what good it did him to be kind when the people around him weren't?
    Soon after the divorce, Storm stopped receiving visitors. No one was permitted on his property aside from the mailman and the occasional delivery man. The front yard was full of tall grass Storm didn't bother cutting nor did he bothered with repainting the wooden fence nor the exterior of the house where the white paint was peeling off everywhere. He had figured this would keep people out better than words.
    Then one Wednesday morning, Shelia came to his door. She didn't ask to come in, she just preached on the porch while Storm stood in the doorway. After she was done, she handed him a piece of paper and left. On the paper, it said: Time heals but so does fried chicken and alcohol and a location to a bar-restaurant where meetings were held and daiquiris were half off to church members. Storm took this as a sign he might be ready to be around people again.
    For a while, Shelia kept ringing Storm's doorbell every Wednesday morning all through the December cold weather. She would talk and he would listen in the doorway. After a while, he had the grass mowed and the fence and exterior painted. He didn't let Shelia inside the house until she had stopped by for six months. Later, they started dating. Shelia was 17 years younger than Storm but she had persuaded him age didn't matter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On a cloudy day when the weatherman declared a high chance of a rainstorm, Storm and Shelia celebrated their ten-month anniversary at Storm's house. When they were almost done with dinner, someone rang the front door. Shelia said she had a surprise for Storm and went to answer it.
    It took barely two minutes before Storm was subdued by Mr. Big-Arms. The man's arms had huge muscles as if rocks were glued to them. Mr. Big-Arms dragged Storm to the basement and tied him onto one of the support beams with ropes that Storm had brought a year ago when he thought he would take Jason rock climbing. Upstairs, Storm could hear Shelia and Mr. Big-Arms rushing here and there, probably stealing his valuables.
    All bruised and bleeding, Storm wasn't waiting for rescue. He was waiting for god. It took a while before he noticed the sign dangling at an angle on the opposite wall a few feet away from him. Someone knitted the message and framed it: You have to taste life's bitter miseries before you could taste the good stuff. Apparently, Storm was tasting more of life's miseries. It was bitter and metallic with bits of stale regrets.
    The sound of Shelia's high heel tapping the wooden steps as she came down paused his sulking. "Shut up! I'm just going to check the old man."
    "There you are, Stanley." Her voice was as casual as before. The light bulb dangling from the ceiling made Shelia looked all the menacing. Her darkly painted lips spread to a sneer. "Here you go." She opened a bottle of water and dumped water down his head. "Stay hydrated. It's good for you." She laughed, recapped the bottle and dropped it on the floor. "You know, it's a shame you don't have family. People without families are such easy prey." She laughed and turned and walked back up.
    Storm recalled last month when he had broken his back bowling and needed an operation. At the hospital when the nurse said she needed his emergency contact phone number, he couldn't think of a single family member or even a friend he wanted by his side even with the possibility of death. Here he was now in the same situation and he couldn't think of a single person to even say goodbye to.
    The sound of muffled thunder caused Storm to shake. Something dripped down on his head. He looked up. Water. It dripped and dripped between the cracks in the ceiling. Where did it come from? A few muffled screams rang out. The basement door creaked opened and sent a flood down toward Storm and soaked his bottom half. He started to shiver. The cold water started rising higher and higher toward his chest. Was this the end? Months ago, the contractor who installed the bowling alley had claimed that the alley was putting too much weight on the floor below it and that new beams needed to be installed to offset the weight but during all the business with Joy, Storm had forgotten and when the workers came, he had sent them away without bothering to check why they came. Was this how he died because he had choose to ignore everything and everyone?
    He held his breath as water rise right over his head. He watched the lightbulb swinging back and forth. At least, I won't die in the dark, he thought. The lightbulb went out. He suddenly remembered Mrs. Zucchini, his next door neighbor. About three weeks ago, Storm came out of his yard to finally clean it. Next door, an old lady came out with a golden retriever following her. She gave Storm a glance and then proceeded to water her plants. Then she spoke with her eyes on her plants. "You need a dog. A man your age should know better." But Storm was barely 40 but he was like his father - they both aged too fast especially with his receding hairline.
     The rope loosened around Storm and something clamped his shirt sleeve and dragged him out of the basement and into the living room where there was a giant hole in the ceiling that went through all the other ceilings revealing a sky pouring down. The dog dragged him away, passing two figures along with a couple of bowling pins and balls on the floor and out the front door. She dropped her hold on Storm's sleeve and he fell to the grass.
    Mrs. Zucchini held a lantern and a large black umbrella which momentarily shielded him from the rain. Her long floral gown was soaked at the hem. "You need a dog," she said. He nodded. She humphed. With one last glance, she turned and walked away. Her dog, Hazy, gave Storm a look that said, What's wrong with you?
    Storm sat up. The pouring rain made him cold. He wiped his face and watched as Mrs. Zucchini and Hazy walked through the fence opening. Her message was clear. Storm needed a dog. And a lot of new roofs and ceilings. But especially a dog.