There is, for all things a reason for their existence. A moment for all things that justifies it's place in the universe. In this moment, some things break out of obscurity, some that live only in shadows and others still, their moment only means something to themselves. Perhaps, it is a scientist stumbling upon moldy bread, the writer who publishes the next great work, a toaster burning Mary into a waffle. Or, maybe still, a moist nose on a basketball.
His jersey rustled as he sniffed the wind, as he embraced the scent of Guy's hot dogs and the air freshener he insisted on having in his car. He suffered for Guy- gave up his life for Guy. All because Guy promised him peanut butter. Guy had delivered- but the old golden retreiver pondered whether it was worth it. Even though he was the one who ate the peanut butter, he questioned who enjoyed the delivery.
Guy flashed a winning smile, and Air Bud perked with intrigue. Josh may have been his best friend, but Guy had the most delicous frosted tips. Guy perched his sunglasses behind his ear and, for the first time since the peanut butter incident, spoke.
"You know, Buddy, I may be Guy Fieri of the Food Channel and shows such as that one that you watched once, but you are a fine dog."
Air Bud barked in appreciation.
"And," Guy said, " I have something very special to show you."
Air Bud whimpered. All too fresh in his mind was the last "special" thing Guy had shown him.
"Not like that, Buddy! I heard my old Pappy was building something in his warehouse and he needed a rag-tag group of Adventures to help him! And I said got just the group of guys!"
A small voice came from the trunk of the red Convertible.
"'Ey, let me outta 'ere! This inn right, y'a 'ear me?"
Guy pressed a button, and out of the trunk came a dwarf.
"This here's Fatty," said Guy. "He's our chef! And we're the adventurers!"