Walking into someone’s backyard, sitting down next to the chain-link fence. Petunia, a four-year-old Doberman Pincher, slowly approaches from the other side. She’s grinning from ear to ear.
SMIVEY: I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna put it out there… I…Okay, I like fruity soap. There, I said it.
PETUNIA: grrrrrrrrrrrr GRRRRRRRR
SMIVEY: Hey, don’t be passing judgment on me. A guy can maintain his masculinity and still enjoy a nice cucumber/melon shower gel.
PETUNIA: ROFE! ROFE GRRRRRRR ROFE ROFE [RUFF!] ROFE! ROFE!
SMIVEY: Oh, I see. Just because I’m a man, I’m supposed to torture myself with regular soap? Fuck that.
PETUNIA: GRRRRR ROFE GRRRR ROFE-ROFE ROFE!
SMIVEY: Yeah, what do you know? You lick your own balls, for godsakes!
PETUNIA: ROFE! ROFE-ROFE! ROFE!
SMIVEY: Yeah? No wonder you’re such a bitch. Bite me.
Petunia does her best to fulfill my wishes. She forces her snout through the chain-link fence and gets within centimeters of digging one of her fangs into my hand. I stand up and stare her down. She jumps at the fence, trying to scale it, barking away.
PETUNIA: ROFE! ROFE! ROFE-ROFE ROFE! ROFE-ROFE! ROFE-ROFE-ROFE-ROFE! ROFE-ROFE-ROFE-ROFE-ROFE-ROFE!
SMIVEY: I AMMMM A HETEROSEXUAL MALE, AND I SMELLLL LIKE CUCUMBER AND MELONNNNNNNN!
This is around when the police arrived. They drew their guns and told me to keep my hands in the air. In hindsight, 3:30 am was probably not the best time for this particular confessional.
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