Game On

“Come out to the desert,” they said.

“We’ll play some paintball and do some exploring,” they said.

“It’ll be fun,” they said.

“My dog and I showed up — and the fuckers ditched us,” I said.

Looking down at Rover, he woofs, “Let’s go and make those assholes pay.”

He knows that I speak fluent ‘canine,’ and I do so without the slightest hint of an accent. For his part, Rover thinks in ‘human.’

“Let’s,” I smile.

“When finished,” Rover gruff-gruffs, “Can I roll in them?”

While I’m not prone to fits of laughter, I emit a slight chuckle, “Sure, pal.”


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