No, it wasn’t a magic trick, or a super dog from an extinct planet light years away from us, that could fly and bite through steel as if it was a chew toy, shoot lasers out of his eyes until it fell into a pit of kryptonite.
No, while the yuppie couple were out on a date celebrating their ten year anniversary the mongrel straight up dies on me while I was watching Sex & The City.
Samantha was just about to get into all the ‘juicy’ details on how the night before when she got gangbanged by a couple of large black ventriloquists.
So I called them when they were right in the middle of sharing a bowl of spaghetti together like from that movie with the bitch and the tramp.
I told them their dog had an heart attack or something else that meant instant death.
Just like that, I said.
They weren’t mad, the dog was old and gassy and they knew it had only a year left to live anyway.
So I was in the clear, they told me to just bring the dog back and they would take care of the funeral at a local pet cemetery.
Cremation, they said.
It’s what he would have wanted, they said.
After I hung up the phone I realized that their place was across town and I had to figure out a way to get there.
In case you were wondering why I took the dog to my place instead of theirs, it’s because they were odd and didn’t have any TV in the house and the walk to and from the subway was enough for the dog to do his thing.
How would someone carry a ‘thirty pound something’ dog across town without calling a lot of unwanted attention to themselves.
So, I stuffed it inside my luggage bag which was relatively easy considering it was still fresh.
Don’t want to think about how I would have gotten it into the case if it were all stiff and cold.
I dressed up like I was about to go on a sunny vacation and put on my flip flops.
So, I flip flop my way down to the subway station.
I dragged the heavy suitcase across the platform, I leaned onto it exhausted and all.
This guy walks up to me, dressed like your stereotypical Jehovah’s witness, but I didn’t see him carry any Watchtower magazines but he looked trustworthy.
He asks me if I needed his help carrying my suitcase because it looked so heavy.
I thought about what to tell him, If I told him the truth that I was carrying a dead dog across town he might rat me out to the cops.
Is what i’m doing even legal are there laws for dragging around dead animals in public?
He was still waiting for an answer, standing there with a friendly somewhat creepy smile on his face.
I thanked him and told him the suitcase was full of computer equipment and I was taking it to the school for deaf and the blind across town.
And I was fully responsible for it and if anything happened to it I would be in huge trouble.
He turned his head and said something like okay then and continued walking.
Not what I expected him to say, but I guess he might have felt a bit jealous that I took all of God’s attention for a moment doing something that saintlike.
I sigh with relief when the train finally arrives.
It stops in front of me and the doors open, suddenly I feel two hands in my back, I quickly turn my head and see it’s the Jehovah’s witness.
He pushed me inside the train, I bump my head on the ground and he runs off with my luggage.
I got up looked out of the windows and saw him running with the heavy luggage bag, and I had no clue what to do next.
Do I react like ‘Hey! that guy just stole my dead dog!’ and right when he’s about to leave the station and the train begins to speed up he gives me one last look.
Damn Jehova’s witnesses, I sit down in one of the chairs and call the owners again.
I explain some guy just stole the bag and is now dragging a dead dog around.
On my end of the phone I wait to be bound and gagged, and burned alive on the stakes.
On the other end of the phone after some silence I hear the husband laughing his ass off.
His wife asks me in a distant voice what I think the guy will do with it and if they will ever get it back.
I take some time to think it over.
He would probably check if there is actually computer stuff in the luggage bag, probably right outside of the subway entrance, people walking around him not giving him a single look.
He opens up the luggage bag and after tossing some T-shirts out of the way he finds Buster dead with his tongue hanging from his mouth.
That or he drags it all the way back to his apartment, up all the staircases and into his living room and opens it there to find theres a dead dog inside, sweaty from dragging it so far and unable to live with the failure he slits his wrists.
Or he would take the luggage bag to ‘his guy’ in a dark back alley some where in the bad side of town.
He would tell ‘his guy’ he just stole some great computer equipment, they open it and find the dead dog inside.
And ‘his guy’ would be looking at the dead dog and be all like ‘Are you kidding me?’ with an accent ala Scarface making it hard to decipher what he just said, but before the guy could it was to late ‘his guy’ had already pulled out his gun and shoots the guy in the face.
So, as you can see, none of this was really my fault and I tried to make the best of it.
So, yes I would say I’m experienced enough to baby-sit your daughter.
No, while the yuppie couple were out on a date celebrating their ten year anniversary the mongrel straight up dies on me while I was watching Sex & The City.
Samantha was just about to get into all the ‘juicy’ details on how the night before when she got gangbanged by a couple of large black ventriloquists.
So I called them when they were right in the middle of sharing a bowl of spaghetti together like from that movie with the bitch and the tramp.
I told them their dog had an heart attack or something else that meant instant death.
Just like that, I said.
They weren’t mad, the dog was old and gassy and they knew it had only a year left to live anyway.
So I was in the clear, they told me to just bring the dog back and they would take care of the funeral at a local pet cemetery.
Cremation, they said.
It’s what he would have wanted, they said.
After I hung up the phone I realized that their place was across town and I had to figure out a way to get there.
In case you were wondering why I took the dog to my place instead of theirs, it’s because they were odd and didn’t have any TV in the house and the walk to and from the subway was enough for the dog to do his thing.
How would someone carry a ‘thirty pound something’ dog across town without calling a lot of unwanted attention to themselves.
So, I stuffed it inside my luggage bag which was relatively easy considering it was still fresh.
Don’t want to think about how I would have gotten it into the case if it were all stiff and cold.
I dressed up like I was about to go on a sunny vacation and put on my flip flops.
So, I flip flop my way down to the subway station.
I dragged the heavy suitcase across the platform, I leaned onto it exhausted and all.
This guy walks up to me, dressed like your stereotypical Jehovah’s witness, but I didn’t see him carry any Watchtower magazines but he looked trustworthy.
He asks me if I needed his help carrying my suitcase because it looked so heavy.
I thought about what to tell him, If I told him the truth that I was carrying a dead dog across town he might rat me out to the cops.
Is what i’m doing even legal are there laws for dragging around dead animals in public?
He was still waiting for an answer, standing there with a friendly somewhat creepy smile on his face.
I thanked him and told him the suitcase was full of computer equipment and I was taking it to the school for deaf and the blind across town.
And I was fully responsible for it and if anything happened to it I would be in huge trouble.
He turned his head and said something like okay then and continued walking.
Not what I expected him to say, but I guess he might have felt a bit jealous that I took all of God’s attention for a moment doing something that saintlike.
I sigh with relief when the train finally arrives.
It stops in front of me and the doors open, suddenly I feel two hands in my back, I quickly turn my head and see it’s the Jehovah’s witness.
He pushed me inside the train, I bump my head on the ground and he runs off with my luggage.
I got up looked out of the windows and saw him running with the heavy luggage bag, and I had no clue what to do next.
Do I react like ‘Hey! that guy just stole my dead dog!’ and right when he’s about to leave the station and the train begins to speed up he gives me one last look.
Damn Jehova’s witnesses, I sit down in one of the chairs and call the owners again.
I explain some guy just stole the bag and is now dragging a dead dog around.
On my end of the phone I wait to be bound and gagged, and burned alive on the stakes.
On the other end of the phone after some silence I hear the husband laughing his ass off.
His wife asks me in a distant voice what I think the guy will do with it and if they will ever get it back.
I take some time to think it over.
He would probably check if there is actually computer stuff in the luggage bag, probably right outside of the subway entrance, people walking around him not giving him a single look.
He opens up the luggage bag and after tossing some T-shirts out of the way he finds Buster dead with his tongue hanging from his mouth.
That or he drags it all the way back to his apartment, up all the staircases and into his living room and opens it there to find theres a dead dog inside, sweaty from dragging it so far and unable to live with the failure he slits his wrists.
Or he would take the luggage bag to ‘his guy’ in a dark back alley some where in the bad side of town.
He would tell ‘his guy’ he just stole some great computer equipment, they open it and find the dead dog inside.
And ‘his guy’ would be looking at the dead dog and be all like ‘Are you kidding me?’ with an accent ala Scarface making it hard to decipher what he just said, but before the guy could it was to late ‘his guy’ had already pulled out his gun and shoots the guy in the face.
So, as you can see, none of this was really my fault and I tried to make the best of it.
So, yes I would say I’m experienced enough to baby-sit your daughter.
