Saturday, September 13, 2008

Good Morning, Guy That Feeds Me!

1984
I had a Lab/Golden Retriever dog that loved to have his ass scratched, and he wasn't abit bashful about it, either. He would back up up to you looking over his shoulder with this look of pure lust on his face. It looked perverted as hell, I got to admit.
One night I had gone out drinking tequila and Jack and beer and God only knows what else, and even before I woke up I knew I was horribly hung over, oh Lord I hurt, I was sick sick sick, somebody please kill me in my sleep and spare me the misery of waking up. I had passed out on the couch, half undressed. In my semi-conscience state, I began to stir, waking up Captain, who usually woke up in a pretty agreeable mood. This time, instead of coming over to get his ears scratched, he starts backing up to me to get his ass scratched. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was this big ol' brown-eye staring me right in the face from about 6 inches away. Then he farted, with that single gaseous emission, he put me down for an entire day. That is what saved his worthless ass, so he can be thankful for that. I was just too sick to run him down and beat him to death, and too hung over to shoot him.