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Pet Semetary (Or, That Creepy Ancient Indian Burial Ground BEHIND the Pet Semetary)
Fiction Affliction #1: A review of Stephen King’s 1983 meditation on death, despair, and the heavy cost for refusing to let sleeping dogs (and cats) lie.
Realtor: Hi, yes, Dr. Creed? Oh, I have the perfect house for you and your family.
Dr. Creed: I can’t wait to see it. My wife and two young kids, whom I’m dragging from their lifelong home in Chicago to Bangor, Maine for some reason, can’t wait to move.
Realtor: Well, firstly, and I just want to get this out of the way, it’s located right by a super busy road where giant trucks driven by idiots who don’t pay attention come rumbling by at 100 mph every minute of every day, all day and all night. There’s no fence or barrier by the road, so it would be really, really dangerous if you happened to have a kid who’s highly mobile and not old enough to recognize the danger of crossing the street yet. Is that okay with you?
Dr. Creed: Absolutely. I am a doctor.
Realtor: Also, and I just want to throw this minor little thing out there. But there’s a pet cemetary behind the house.
