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The moon was full, a dog was barking, and there was a coffin in the alley. We gathered at 3:00 A.M. in the courtyard, glassy eyed, a troop of angry zombies for whom there had been no rest. The coffin was white, enigmatic, suggestive. What lay within? Chip, the bold, checked it. Empty he said. I had seen a man with a handtruck shortly after dark wheeling it through the courtyard. Was it empty then? What did the dog know, barking hour after hour, a yapping poodle locked out of its apartment, yapping and yapping, attacking then retreating from anyone who tried to calm it --- what did it know?
3:00 A.M. in the morning, sleepless, we gathered. Where was Camille? What was going on in her apartment that the dog couldn't get into? Why was there no answer when we pounded on the door? What about her two little boys?
The dog barked and it barked. We talked about fire. We talked about pitchforks. We talked about roasting little poodle dogs over slow hot coals and then sealing them into a coffin. We had the coffin.
Camille arrived--- from the emergency room. Her littlest one had fallen, she said, and cut his head. The dog had slipped out when she left. Why then was there a bandage on her boy Blair's neck? What did the dog know? And what would we find in the coffin after sunrise?
Gregg Writes
| 1989 | Besieged | Claire de Lune |
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| 1992 | Flood --- Riot --- Earthquake! |
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| 1993 | * Gregg and the Trail Bike * | A Stabbing | |
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| Under a Full Moon | Burt Rutan | I Meet a Bear | |
| 1994 | * 7.2! * | A Star Is Born | * My Car Is Stolen * |
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| 1995 | This Year I Flew Like A Bird |
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