treachery on first street
the leash doesn't always mean a walk

FRIDAY, 12:15 PM: evil gets out the poodle leashes!  excitement prevails as a walk is anticipated.  around whose necks will she fasten collars?  first blessed is me, badpoodle, as i am her favorite who walks upon the ground she worships.  though i deserve her full attention, she also collars goodpoodle, who, in my opinion, is too autistic to appreciate leaving the house.

12:18 PM:  here i am, eager to get on with outside activity, namely marking the world with poodle piss and terrorizing all who cross my path.  excitation is palpable, and such a display is more than normal among poodledogs.  of course a trip beyond the gate would be far improved by subtracting evil from the equation, but time lacks space to elaborate.


12:19-12:25 PM:  evil tries to get goodpoodle to look at the camera. goodpoodle finds evil, the camera and life in general terrifying.  he refuses to look at the camera.


12:26 PM:  what looked like a walk now looks like a less than optimal situation as i find myself in The Car.  nothing good ever comes of being in the car.  cars go to the needlesticking place or waterdunking-scissorswielding place.  i have use for neither.  i am consumed with shame over my earlier display of enthusiasm.  evil gave no sign she was up to no good, and it is rare that she do anything but worship me, badpoodle.  i don't like evil;  i don't have to.

12:27 PM:  goodpoodle, look at the damn camera.

12:30 PM:  damn!  it's the waterdunking-scissorswielding place.  for the next 3 hours, i, badpoodle, will suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous topiary, a cruel exercise whose only point is to amuse evil and hairy.  there was a time when evil swore she'd never subject any poodle of hers to such pointless poofery, but after years of whining, hairy finally wore her down.  my hair was just getting comfortable on my skin; i should've know that would lead to coiffure.

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