Time 4 Weird News with My Buddy John Dog
by Maxine Dogmeat
Full moon last night. Had a wonderful evening hanging at Mehmet's Bar with my friend eccentric outsider artist, The John Dog. Mehmet's is more like an outdoor cafe. Actually, all the tables are outside. The only inside seating is on the second floor, but no one goes up there except to use the facilities, the crapper. Mehmet's overlooks the beach and last night there was a cooling breeze coming from the Med that sucked the heat from the streets. Life is bearable when you are listening to the good r & b and the blues with the smell of the sea in the air and a little wind in your sails.
Slept well, woke up for the first time in many a week not lying in a moist pool of sweat or my boobs dripping wet against my rib cage. The heat wave seems to have eased and I'm feeling good. Had me a hearty breakfast, tomato, olive, and hotdog omelet washed down with generous amounts of Coke. When I opened the Coke I looked under the lining in the cap and found that I won a free liter. I was starting to get all tingly down below with all this excitement or maybe it was the caffeine. I called my good buddy The John Dog, who was at home drinking a cup o' joe and told him the good news. I walked to the bank and the cash machine worked, which made me happy cause half the time it doesn't. I'm on a roll. I stopped at the liquor store and got some Kirov vodka and Captain Black Mini Tipped Cherry Sweets cigars for later.
Later my buddy the dog man called me back with some bizarre story that only an eccentric outsider art maker could imagine. Overhead the clouds were beginning to appear 'the powers at be' (one of my new favorite expressions) decided that the John Dog wasn't going to have a 'Happy Days' Richey gets a hickey day. It was going to be a 'Happy Tree People' day instead. Because when he took off his socks to get ready for the beach he noticed that his legs where covered with red bumps of various shapes and sizes. Some of them were oozing. "No, no, not again attack of the oozing puss filed sores, he screamed." Shit, fuck, piss, god damn mother fucker; what else can one say in these situations? I hate to see a friend suffer. "Sometimes," John Dog said, "I wish that a little blue squirrel with chain saw a blazing would burst into my room and hack both my legs off. Rev up the motor and dig in. Have a ball slashing away; blood all over the room covering the walls, the bed, the computer, and everything else including me and the fuzzy little blue rodent. Get it over with."
I wanted to comfort him badly, maybe lick his balls a little and suck him off.
I went to his place with a couple six packs. "It felt good getting that off my chest, thanks for stopping by with the beer" he said. I said, "Think I'll pop open a cold one now." We worked on an article that we are co-writing, called Time for Weird News.
Later I ran a cool bath for the John Dog, told him to strip and get in the tub. I took a bar of anti-bacterial soup from the shelf and began to scrub the sores on his legs. I wanted to cheer him up so I pulled of my t-shirt and shorts and gave him a view of my naked body. He smiled and his little turtle head popped out stretched its neck. I lathered the rest of his body and massaged him forcefully with a sponge.
I turned on the warm water and rinsed the John Dog off. His dick was firm and very inviting. I was wet and ready when I entered the tub and when he entered me. We sloshed around in the water and made a lot of bubbles in the process. John Dog let out an eccentric outsider artist moan and kissed my breasts with appreciation. I could feel him coming inside me so I road him harder. Water was slashing all over the bathroom floor when I climaxed.
After our bit of sex-ercise we got back to writing the Time for Weird News article. Here's a little sample of it.
Time for Weird News dateline Chicago - LaChania Govan said she got bounced around by her cable company when she called to complain. She made dozens of calls and was even transferred to a person who spoke Spanish — a language she doesn't understand. Understandably, she got p.o.ed and said a few things.
When she got her August bill from the company she had no trouble understanding she'd made somebody mad. It was addressed to "Bitch Dog." Damn, if she was my wife she'd probably be getting most of her letters addressed that way me being the John Dog and all. (JD comment)
The cable company explained that "La Cania" means "female dog" in Portugese. They have farmed out all the customer service work to foreign countries with cheap wages. It was a guy in Brazil on the phone who misunderstood, Lachania. Lame fucking excuse but very creative. If you believe that one you probably believe the Jesus never screwed Mary Magdalene. (Maxine comment)
Here's a better one from the same story, In another case, Peoples Energy customer Jeffery Barnes started getting letters addressed to "Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes."
He said, "I had no bad words (with them) at all. I guess the earliest letter is dated in May and from then on up until now my name has been listed as Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes and I have no idea why."
Barnes said he received an apologetic call from a company official. He also has contacted an attorney to determine if he can take legal action.
A Peoples Energy spokeswoman called the letter inexcusable.
Sounds like Peoples Energy needs to be more vigorous in their employee drug screening procedures. Some low paid stoner doing data entry for minimum wage probably just got bored one day. We've all been there haven't we? Do something stupid at work that's gonna hit the fan after you've quit. Stick it the boss man before you go. Joe'd be bragging to his stoner buddies about it and they would be saying, 'Yeah, that was cool man, way cool dude. Sticking it to the maannn. Righteous' (Maxine comment)
Now if Joe Stoner hadn't resigned and the boss man fingered him for the deed, I'm sure he'd be getting a letter with a pink slip in it addressed to Joe Fart Breathed Slacker Stoner. (JD comment)
