The Lucky Dog

Ol' ***, except for we just used to call him *** then. Everyone had a story, a reason for calling him that, but the truth is *** was a big guy and there's just something fun about calling him ***, hell, we were at the age where it was fun just to say ***, Even now it's pretty inviting to type, just a left, right, left in the middle of the top row. Around respectable people we would call him W, not for anything it stood for, it was a pict-o-gram. We had many years of stupidity of together, a lot of time passed between the words pict-o-gram and we. I leaned back, looked right at nothing and just smiled. I was trying to pick the best story to tell you about me and ***, umm, ok, W, I'll assume you're respectable.

It is at least 50% of W's fault that I chewed off the end of a broomstick. A deal is a deal and if your going to chicken out, you should proudly wear that fluffy yellow suit instead of taking advantage of unpredictable circumstance. W was way past a boy by this point, he was trying different man stuff, He hadn't tried working much. He was married. She was a full foot shorter than W and not nearly as bright. W was not very bright with a woman that wasn't nearly as bright. There I said it without making any mean jokes about two real people. OK, I know, I admit that I was pausing and smiling again. I have quite a few stories I could have told you about the non-brightness of the not nearly as bright as.


W and his wife, I'll call his wife sparky, because I did call her sparky for awhile. It is a hilarious story, but I'm not like that anymore. Mr and Mrs W. could do. Well, they were pretty poor and it had been a bit since they (W and Spaahhhr-ky) had eaten, they were trying to barter for some rent and were painting there house. It was oil base paint and they didn't open the windows so they were a bit more, umm, not bright than are usually. They started in telling me why it was the other ones fault that they were so hungry and even how the other one ate since the other. W, being the brighter of the duo would resort to lying nearly right away. This would cause his tiny nitwit, sorry, tiny bride to click her tongue and say uh-uuuuh repeatedly. W and I just watched her until we just couldn't not laugh. She laughed too, although she didn't know why. To be fair, the sparkplug wire thing wouldn't happen for quite awhile.


Soon the conversation was re-dominated by food. First was the imagined menu, all though it lacked much imagination She would talk about big hunk of government cheese. he would modify the dream menu, he would say with reverence, Government cheese sandwich. She got mad and told on him. “you ate all the bread making Mayonnaise Sandwiches! ALL of the bread, ALL of the mayonnaise.” W said “you ate some of those, too”. She started the click and nu-uuuh thing. We paused....


This could have stayed the little slice of life story, but it got strange. W said “I could eat a horse” little "no-spark-yet" would name an animal, it turned into a game, I would eat a bowl of tropical fish, or a monkey, or a zebra. They didn't know many animals, in fact they didn't seem to notice when Mrs. W said pig. They didn't consider the fact that they eat plenty of pig when they can. They never got to warthog or gazelle or anteater or many many others. I just started to chime in armadillo, marmot, impala. They said cars didn't count. They continued “I could eat a giraffe, I could eat a cat, I could eat a house. Click, uh uuuuuuh!, what, you never heard of Animal House? She accepted that! On and on until “I could eat a dog” W said. Not-yet-sparky said “ You can not!”


Now different societies eat different things. In Hawaii, I heard about the Filipinos taste for puppy stew, later in my life in South Dakota I heard stories about a certain tribe of Indians that ate dog. In fact, the most famous person that ever told me a joke was a well known Indian warrior turned activist. OK, he didn't tell me the joke, it was a group of us, but it was a small group. The joke was about eating dogs. Hot dogs and “hey what part did you get”. I wish I had enough Indian in me to pass as one, I could have been a real live Indian warrior with a famous chief. You know they did used to call Natives “Indians”. I loved them then, too. I don't know any of them now, not for a long time.


Meanwhile the argument was focused on dogs. I could eat it and scratch 'em behind the ears at the same time, followed by it would bite you, followed by, well, you get it. I know I just barely got started on the story and here I go again.


I have a strange interest in human nature, all of it. Not just greeting card stuff. Sure I feel the beauty of a picture of cute little girl blowing on a dandelion puff and even feel something like whatever the script thing says on the picture, “Today is the first day of...Love is... I can see an old couple in a cafe, taking care of and irritating each other and have to squint so no one can my soul being touched. I like the freaky **** too.


So, without further explanation, I was out the door, with my partner “I would too, W” and we were dog hunting. I was fairly certain that it we would never actually find, kill, dress, cook, and eat a dog, but I knew that this was adventure and a wonderful chance to study human nature. I knew I was more prepared to actually eat a dog, I knew two cultures that I lived with that ate dogs. That joke from the well known man who could have been my chief. I had enough money and had decided I after our hunt, I would drive to a drive in and get them some hamburgers, may be hot dogs too, I'll save the joke for then. I couldn't do it now, the hunt would be off!


So we walked down the street looking in all the side yards and vacant lots, Dog hunters. I was relentless with my questions. I cared about the answers, but seeing how many faces he would make thinking about the answer counted too. I made sure to make lots of squinty eyes and looking around, so he knew that I was a better dog hunter than him. We discussed breed and method. We worked out the distribution of duties, He'd catch it, I'd kill It, he'd dress it, I'd cook it. Boiled with lots of garlic. Young dog would be better than old dog. He pointed out a short piece of 2x4 on the road and said I could use to kill our dogfeast. I looked at him with my best dog killer face and said “You don't need a weapon to kill a dog, you just catch and hold it and I'll kill it right in your arms with my bare hands and then called him a different piece of Female anatomy. I called him a *****. I wanted to tell him just how close I was to becoming a warrior, but I used some fortitude, I really wanted to use the joke, So I tried to look real hard for dogs, I made a meaner face. I was having so much fun, All I needed was theme music. W was making all sort of faces now, I didn't even have to say anything, he kept making faces anyway. I wondered if some of those faces were because it was a long time ago that he ate all those Mayo Sandwiches and how many were contemplation of dog murder and consumption.


So up to this point all we had done is walk around looking and making dog reaper faces. It was starting to get boring and then a moment that neither one could have ever expected. As we rounded the corner a big box with large legible lettering half way down the street. “free puppies”. I rapidly tried to renegotiate the division of labor. Since he didn't need to catch anything. The closer we got the more hesitant, I knew victory was imminent. He would admit that he couldn't eat a dog and I would go get burgers. The little girl handed him a puppy, he looked right into it's eyes, I couldn't not smile. I was asking him what he thought he'd dress out at, with or without skin. The puppy licked his face which was busier than ever.


It is hard to believe the claim that he didn't know that his cousin lived there and the far too coincidental potluck kegger just happened to be right then, right there. In a flash we were nearly cold beer drinkers and W was eating lot's of pot luck potatosaladcasseroleambrosia. He ate back yard grilled hamburgers and hotdogs. HOTDOGS! I had better accompaniment than buns and mustard for hot dogs.


Soon everyone was done eating, then so was my buddy W. I wasn't eating, but I didn't mind the beer one bit. All the guys were gathering around displaying feats of manhood and muscle making. One young buck was showing off flexibility with a broom stick


So after my impressive broom stick chewing trick we were walking home, not hunting. The trick was hugely impressive. Splinters, blood and permanent tooth damage. I mentioned his hungry wife and admitted that I had some money. He said “Sure, I'll go for a burger”. So it should be obvious. more than 50% his fault.








hateable hateable
51-55, M
1 Response Jan 9, 2013

thanks, i used this for my open writing homework and got an A+.. MUHAHAHAHA