The Dog

“Hi.”

“What?”

“I just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Why?”

“Well, we are neighbors, right?”

“Not interested.”

“I also wanted to say something about your dog.”

“You got a gun?”

“No.”

“Ride a bike? A mo-tor-cy-cle?”

“No, I don’t have a bike.”

“Ever beat your wife?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then we got nothin’ to talk about.”

“We do actually. The county says that any barking dog, left unattended for more than 15 minutes, is considered a nuisance.”

“You can’t put a noose on the dog.”

“Not a noose, the dog is a nuisance and after several complaints, the dog can be put down.”

“He ain’t got no shoulders and his neck is too fat for a noose.”

“Ok, but he barks for hours and the sheriff can come and take the dog.”

“They cain’t put it down. We had it to dog commando school and he won’t lay down for nothin’.”

“What I mean is, the sheriff can send the dog to a shelter and have it euthanized.”

“It’s an old dog. You ain’t makin’ it no younger.”

“They will kill the dog…put it to sleep.”

“My kid could kick your kid’s butt.”

“I don’t think so.”

Callin’ me a liar?”

“My kid is over 40. I really don’t think your kid could beat him up.”

“How many kids you got?”

“A boy and a girl.”.

“I know he could beat up a girl.”

“She has 3 kids of her own.”

“He could beat all of ‘em up. No problem.”

“Can we get back to the dog barking?”

“You hittin’ on my wife?”

“No, I’m not hitting on her. I’ve never seen your wife. “

“Babe…BABE. Get over here.”

“What is it, BABY?”

“Get over here. Sometimes you gotta keep yellin’ at ‘em ’til they do what you want. Get here now.”

“Phew. What baby?”

“This guy hittin’ on you?”

“No baby. He’s too old to hit on me.”

“I’m really not that old.”

“Yeah you are. Look at ya. I got dirt in my yard younger ’n you.”

“I was just talking with your husband about your dog. He is a barker.”

“My husband?”

“No, the dog.”

“Yup. He is, right baby? We think maybe he’s deaf.”

“Why do you think that.”

“Where you at man? Cause he never shuts up when we yell at him, that’s why. Ain’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“Do you think when he barks you could put him into the house?”

“Nah. Wrecks the kids’ music and they can’t think straight when playing video games.”

“Maybe put him in the basement?”

“Nooooo. He definitely can’t go in the basement. Right Babe?”

“No, he can’t go down there. He might mess with the plants.”

“Oh, so you have a garden in the basement?”

“Let’s just say we got some plants down there that we need to keep him away from, right baby?”

“Yup. Not down there.”

“I was hopeful we could agree on a solution that satisfies both of us without getting the sheriff involved.”

“Cain’t have no sheriff pokin’ around here. Hear me?”

“Sure, I hear you. So…maybe you can find a way to put him into the house after he barks for a while?”

“I ‘spose. The kids just gonna have to increase the volume on their death metal.”

“Death metal?”

“Yeah. Where you from? I got ‘em listening to death music so they’ll grow up tough. Don’t need no sissy boys. Got it?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Ever been in jail?”

“No.”

“Got any tats?”

“I don’t have any tattoos.”

“Scared of needles I bet.”

“Just never wanted someone poking me with a needle I guess.”

“We ain’t home no more.”

“Sorry?”

“We are not here no more.”

““Well, we are standing here talking. Right?””

“Not no more. We ain’t home, right babe?”

“Right baby. We are definitely not home.”

“Well—“

“NOT HOME!!!”

“Ok, it was nice meeting both you. We’ll talk again sometime.”

“Nope.”

“Great. Just put the dog into the house when he barks and nobody will need to call the sheriff.”

“I’m watchin’ you to see where you live. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Nice talkin’ to ya. BYE.”

IMG_3020

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s