Saturday, June 18, 2011
I’ve decided that I intend to murder the dog next door.
This blog post will prove that the murder was premeditated, but I don’t care. I’m ready to do the time. Before you get angry at me, consider a few facts. One, I’m a dog lover. I love every dog out there, except that one. I have loved all the dogs I’ve ever been close to, Magic, Mugsy, Sammy, Lucy, Oreo, Skippy.
Two, this dog is the worst creature God ever made.
The houses here are pretty close together. I can often hear my neighbor having phone conversations when our windows are open. But, the difference between my neighbor and her dog is that she is not yelling every time she talks.
Pulling this murder off will take a lot of planning, because I’m pretty sure the dog has bugged my room, or has cameras in here. I’m certain he has a little control room that has a door that slides open as he approaches, allowing him to waddle up to a leather chair and check in on what I’m doing. The room is dark, only lit by the glow of his televisions. Between puffs of a cigar he watches the wall of monitors, waiting for the moment the closeup screen indicates that I’m deep into my REM sleep. He springs to action, trotting out to the window and starts barking as loud as he possibly can.
He does this at 8:30 every morning and every instance I take a nap.
My only choice is to murder him, but I can’t get too close, because I’m a wimp for cuteness. Plus, I know he’s always one step ahead of me, so I’m afraid all the work would be for not. I feel like I’m Tom Cruise in the Firm, and the dog is Wilford Brimley. Hmmm…Wilford Brimley. Maybe the best option is for me to give the dog diabetes. New plan. I’m going to start throwing Mike and Ikes out of my window and into his window. He won’t be able to resist, no living creature can resist them. He will eat the evidence of my actions, it’s the perfect crime. I’ll keep throwing them until he gets lethargic and his body is confused about how to regulate his insulin. He won’t be able to communicate like a human does, so he won’t get on good medicine, like a human would. Slowly, but surely, he will bark no more. I will have given him the worst, Type 5, canine diabetes.
Remember, you have no knowledge of this blog post.
Today, Michelle and I walked down the street to this breakfast place we love called Blu Jam. Yummy. Then, we went down to the Beautiful Starbucks. I went and had a rehearsal with my improv class because our showcase is tomorrow. Then, Michelle and I went to see our friend Lee Ellen play some music at a coffee shop in Studio City.
Then, we came home, brushed our teeth, got ready for bed, slipped under the covers, shut our eyes, and heard the vile creature next door barking as loud as he can.