I was really hurting for something to write about tonight, until my latest muse suggested I craft a story about a dog. That’s all she said: a dog. “A dog?” I asked. “Yes, I think I said, a dog,” she replied.
Okay, fine. This entry will be entirely about a dog. A dog name uhh Larry. Larry the dog. Okay, what the fuck am I supposed to write about a goddamn dog? And Larry? Who names their dog Larry? That’s just insane. Fuck that.
Alright, so this dog’s name is Peter. No, it’s Joshua. No, wait. . . fuck. I don’t know. What the hell do you name a fucking dog anyway? We had two Miniature Schnauzers when I was growing up. They were named Mini and Smidgen. Yeah, I didn’t name them. They were my mom’s dogs. I just tortured them.
Now, don’t go calling the fucking A.S.P.C.A on me. It’s not like I hung them from their legs off the balcony. I just blew in their faces. Unlike people, dogs don’t like to have air blown in their faces. In fact, they really hate it. And if I didn’t have my hands covering my mouth when I did it, I might have been the first boy with prosthetic lips.
I don’t know if you could call this torture, but another thing I liked to do was engage my dog in a game of tug-of-war using a knotted up nylon stocking. I’d tease her with the stocking first. Then she’d bite it and get a good grip. It was so funny watching her shake her head and growl as I started moving around in a circle. Then i’d start to spin. And finally, she’d take flight, holding onto the stocking as her legs scrambled to find solid ground. Of course, I didn’t have her flying too high. Maybe a few inches above my head. No, I kid. She was safe. Really. There were never any injuries. Except for those incurred by me when my mom caught me torturing the dogs.
But little did mom know that her son would grow up to work in a science lab, where he gets paid big money to torture dogs and make monkeys smoke cigarettes and force rodents to wear mascara. MUHAHAHAHHA. . . No, I’m kidding again. I just thought that would be a cool ending to this.
You know what’s sad? I go back to work tomorrow, kids. And that means I won’t have so much free time to dedicate to this stuff. My last free night, and I spent it writing this drek. That’s just sad. Can’t wait to see what Jason has to say about this one. And somehow I doubt I’ll have to wait long to find out. Bleh.
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