View Full Version : First creative effort in a long time

03-20-12, 04:18 AM
Dogs, they're in it for the long con.

Are you confidently assured that your dog sees you as the Alpha of his pack? Well, don't feel bad, I fell for that ruse too, hook, line and squeaky chew toy.

What's really going on behind those soft puppy-dog eyes is a level of devious scheming like you'd never believe.

This is the story of Fido, supposedly my best friend who took my trust and love in good faith and then betrayed me as surely as if he'd taken his blunt claws, sharpened them up real good on a file borrowed from my toolbox and then comically failed to do more than minor damage to the upper layers of my epidermis trying to shank me.

Which is actually what seems to be happening right at this moment. Hang on a sec.

Damn it Fido, you're not a cat, get with the program and use your teeth already bud, this is embarrassing. And really man, what were you, raised in a zoo? Put my damn tools back where you found them. I'm not telling you this **** again.

I knew I should have changed the locks.

Wait, where was I?

Oh yeah. So there I was, naively thinking I was sharing my precious living space with a submissive mutt who longed for nothing more than to chase his beloved tennis ball and sleep at the foot of my bed. Little did I know. No, no, not submissive in that sense, what kind of sick joker are you?

Looking back, the crime would have been obvious to anyone with a semblance of fiscal responsibility. He was a crafty hound however and knew my weak points well.

My poor accounting practices are almost a thing of legend so he rightfully assumed a few extra charges each month would easily slip by unnoticed. As poor as my record keeping is, this probably would have continued indefinitely if he hadn't gotten greedy.

But greedy he got. . .err. . .gotted. . .gottinous. . .whatever, you get the idea.

The whole ball of technicolor dreamwax he'd been living on melted that fateful day (the high class kinda dreawax, not some Walmart knock-off generic crap).

Once again I found myself stranded a stone's throw from payday without two pennies to run together and decided to make one last try at being a fiscally responsible adult.

Fido knew the jig was up as he watched me finish struggling to balance my checkbook then slowly reach for the Amex statement.

That mysterious document I suspected just might hold the clues I needed to have a chance at derailing the choo-choo train of uncontrolled spending which was my life. The numbers contained therein, as mysterious and difficult to decode as a wartime cypher were only to be only examined in case of a dire emergency. Such a moment was this: the tail end of my last-ditch attempt to reconcile where my paltry earnings went to die each month.

(Did'ya see what I did there?? 'Tail end'. . .its a story about a dog. . . . Sigh, why do I even bother?)

To continue. . .

My eyes scanned the page. I strained, trying to make sense out of the swirling vortex of numbers which represented excessive supplement purchases, automatically renewing subscriptions to services I hadn't used in years, impulse purchases from and a few items labeled 'just don't ask, its better that way.'

So far, all was I had expected. The items and/or services I was refusing even to acknowledge to myself were no surprise. Sometimes you make a deal with the devil just to get by.

Sometimes that devil is actually you, wearing an ill fitting red costume and brandishing a styrofoam pitchfork which wouldn't frighten a 5 year old, let alone a grown man. And when you pierce the veil of this sad attempt at intimidation you laugh right in his face. Ooh, the mean ole king of the underworld, soooooooo scary! Where'd you get that pitchfork big guy, the dollar store?

Then you stop, look around to make sure no-one noticed you talking to yourself, straighten your baggy red tights and go along your merry way.

But I digress.

WHAMMO! There it was, in black and white. The red herring. No, it wasn't actually red, I said black and white. We've been over this a thousand times, it's a FIGURE OF SPEECH. Don't make me get the hose again.

Seriously. It took a week to get the carpet dry last time.

No, I'm not whining, I'm just requesting a little consideration, is that really soooooo much to ask?

Yeah, right, the point. I'll get to it here sooner or later.

Scan, scan, scan, like a determined but slow moving organic image capturing system I made my way down the precisely aligned rows on the page. Numbers, numbers, squeaky dog toy, numbers, peacock feathers, herringbone. . .wait a minute. . .a payment for $2,000 to Mail Order Bi***es In Heat??? What the hell bro?????

(That was my inner dialog, which you should feel privileged at the opportunity to behold, just fyi. Also, I don't actually call myself bro. I made that part up, well stole it from my friend Matt actually but he'll never know. Uhh, you won't tell him, right? Cause, I'm not trying to pay royalties or any ******** like that)

Anyhoosier, the damning evidence was undeniable. If it had just been the fake squirrel here and rawbone chew there the unauthorized purchasing would likely have continued indefinitely. The dollar amount associated with the illicit canine internet mate purchase was significant enough however that it tripped the alarm bells at last.

I looked at Fido in dismay, he looked back at me like I was an idiot. I looked down at myself just to make doubly sure it wasn't because I was still wearing that stupid Satan costume.

Having eliminated that as the cause of his canine sneer, I then had another thought.

Yeah yeah, two in one day, I know. Haha, real funny, why don't you go. . .whoops there thats pesky train jumping the tracks and veering off into the corn fields again. Actually, hmm, maybe that's what caused the explosion in Wombley's Clapboard factory.

Yeah. . .the thought: Didn't I have him neutered?? Actually, I meant for it be just a thought but moments later realized I had in fact spoken aloud. This realization was prompted by the gleam of Fido's white fangs now bared in a snarl.

All right, calling it a snarl might be a bit much.

Mocking vulpine grin? Is that better? Are you happy now? Can we continue please.

Yeah, I know vulpine means fox-like and a fox and a dog aren't the same thing. Well, actually I thought it meant wolf-like till I googled it but whatevs.

In conclusion, it turns out the Vet was in on the whole thing. Canine testosterone boosters, doggie viagra, they'd done whatever it took to get Fido back in the game.

Maybe I should have noticed the pattern a little sooner but I'd decided a while back that if Fido was willing to take himself to the vet without me who was I to argue. That saved me the hassle of remembering to take him and so what if once a month was a little more frequent than the recommended vet visits. He was taking care of himself and it meant I had more time for video games. Win-win, i think they call that.

Such a sucker I was, more like win-lose!

But you know who had the last laugh? That would be me, uh-huh!

Who's your daddy now Fido? Some bum living out of an abandoned railroad car? The dog catcher! Hahahahahaha.

What? You're living in San Francisco with Eric Rogers? To hell with both of you! I hope he poops on your lily white furniture Eric! You two deserve each other, a match made in hell. And yeah I mean the real hell where the boss guy's horns are real and stuff.

And there's hellfire!

And, and angry demons, yeah!!!

And Succubuses. . .err. . .Succubi. Mmmmmm. . .Succubi.

Uh, wait a minute now. . .if there are Succubi involved I want to go too. Let bygone's be bygones right guys? I was totally joking about that voodoo doll I told you I was making Eric.

Seriously, wait up!

03-30-12, 10:01 PM
Great story!!