Okay, I've been seeing a trend in my writing, and that is that I've been
making a totally pansy-assed Johnny. For that, I am truly sorry. Let's see
if I can do anything to correct this grievous mistake.
A sunny afternoon:
"Rrrrr." Johnny growled at the squirrel that perched on the bird feeder. The squirrel, one tough customer, looked him right in the eye, and gave him the squirrel-y finger.
Johnny, incensed, barked and lunged at the little bastard, forgetting that the chain wasn't really that long, and ended up choking and gasping on his back, clawing at the collar for more breathing room.
Mr. Macho Shit AKA the squirrel, jumped off the bird feeder and onto Johnny, biting and clawing and trying his damnedest to make sure Johnny would never procreate again.
A bar brawl ensued, and the spectators gathered, ranging from red-boobied robins to one entertained human named Peter standing at a window. Bets were placed, and the crowd shouted up a storm, rooting for their favored to win.
Finally, after a few minute of intense nut-kicking action on both sides of the competition, the dust cloud settled, and only one fighter was left standing. Johnny, triumphant and primal, crouched over the dead body of the squirrel and yelled, "ROWF ROW RUFF RUFF ROOOOOO!" which translates to "I AM KING OF THIS YARD!"
Disgusted, the masses dispersed, except for one small field mouse, purse over-flowing with her winnings. She now had enough to move to Tahiti and live out her golden years in a relatively comfortable home, even without her pension! Suddenly, a paper rained down from the sky at a fantastic speed and crushed her. Damn paperboys were always so late.
Johnny, still full of adrenaline, clawed at his collar, trying to tear it off so he could find a safe place in the yard to bury his new treasure.
Peter walked out, and seeing that Johnny was scratching himself quite bloody, called him over and released him from his imprisonment. He smiled as Johnny scampered off and dug into the dust that made up the yard, dropped his prize in and scraping all the dirt back on top. He circled the dirt mound a few times before dropping his bruised and beaten body down on top, and proceeded to take a well-deserved nap.
Peter looked on with a sense of peace and loving, and was sorely tempted to leave Johnny out for the night. But, if he did, he knew Johnny would be even angrier with him then he was now. But he did look so cute in little floppy ears. Peter sighed and snapped his fingers, and checked to make sure the padding he had strapped on was secure enough to protect his vital parts for a few seconds at least.
Johnny blinked and cocked his head when Peter had snapped his fingers, and slowly sanity seeped into his eyes. He. was outside. and he hurt. Sitting up, he inspected himself for a moment. Bruises, scratches, sore throat, naked, goose bumps, fuzzy dog ears strapped to his head. Could only mean one thing. Jumping up from the little mound with all the grace and ruthless power of a. well, not panther, but not turtle, either. Maybe a mix. Anyways, Johnny sprinted for the only bastard that could have made him thought he was a dog, and landed head-on, knocking them both into the house.
Another fight started, only Johnny was punching and cursing and Peter was lying there and taking it. With padding.
After a few moments, and realizing that Peter wasn't going to move, he sat back and glared into his enemy's face. "Why," pant, "did you," pant, "do that?"
Peter blinked. "I don't know."
Due to technical difficulties, and that there hasn't been a microphone created yet that would be able to pick up all the subtle nuances of a scream of rage that intense, we now skip to the last scene in this chapter.
"Johnny?" A mournful call echoed in the black room. "Johnny, are you there? I really have to go to the bathroom."
Half an hour later. "Johnny, please! Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything you want! I'll- I'll even apologize! Just, please! I have to go! Right now! JOHNNY!!!!"
Steps sounded on the stairs, and the door opened a crack, permitting a slim crack of light into the room, silhouetting a skinny body and spiky hair. "You want something?"
"Never mind."
I do so love the potty humor.
A sunny afternoon:
"Rrrrr." Johnny growled at the squirrel that perched on the bird feeder. The squirrel, one tough customer, looked him right in the eye, and gave him the squirrel-y finger.
Johnny, incensed, barked and lunged at the little bastard, forgetting that the chain wasn't really that long, and ended up choking and gasping on his back, clawing at the collar for more breathing room.
Mr. Macho Shit AKA the squirrel, jumped off the bird feeder and onto Johnny, biting and clawing and trying his damnedest to make sure Johnny would never procreate again.
A bar brawl ensued, and the spectators gathered, ranging from red-boobied robins to one entertained human named Peter standing at a window. Bets were placed, and the crowd shouted up a storm, rooting for their favored to win.
Finally, after a few minute of intense nut-kicking action on both sides of the competition, the dust cloud settled, and only one fighter was left standing. Johnny, triumphant and primal, crouched over the dead body of the squirrel and yelled, "ROWF ROW RUFF RUFF ROOOOOO!" which translates to "I AM KING OF THIS YARD!"
Disgusted, the masses dispersed, except for one small field mouse, purse over-flowing with her winnings. She now had enough to move to Tahiti and live out her golden years in a relatively comfortable home, even without her pension! Suddenly, a paper rained down from the sky at a fantastic speed and crushed her. Damn paperboys were always so late.
Johnny, still full of adrenaline, clawed at his collar, trying to tear it off so he could find a safe place in the yard to bury his new treasure.
Peter walked out, and seeing that Johnny was scratching himself quite bloody, called him over and released him from his imprisonment. He smiled as Johnny scampered off and dug into the dust that made up the yard, dropped his prize in and scraping all the dirt back on top. He circled the dirt mound a few times before dropping his bruised and beaten body down on top, and proceeded to take a well-deserved nap.
Peter looked on with a sense of peace and loving, and was sorely tempted to leave Johnny out for the night. But, if he did, he knew Johnny would be even angrier with him then he was now. But he did look so cute in little floppy ears. Peter sighed and snapped his fingers, and checked to make sure the padding he had strapped on was secure enough to protect his vital parts for a few seconds at least.
Johnny blinked and cocked his head when Peter had snapped his fingers, and slowly sanity seeped into his eyes. He. was outside. and he hurt. Sitting up, he inspected himself for a moment. Bruises, scratches, sore throat, naked, goose bumps, fuzzy dog ears strapped to his head. Could only mean one thing. Jumping up from the little mound with all the grace and ruthless power of a. well, not panther, but not turtle, either. Maybe a mix. Anyways, Johnny sprinted for the only bastard that could have made him thought he was a dog, and landed head-on, knocking them both into the house.
Another fight started, only Johnny was punching and cursing and Peter was lying there and taking it. With padding.
After a few moments, and realizing that Peter wasn't going to move, he sat back and glared into his enemy's face. "Why," pant, "did you," pant, "do that?"
Peter blinked. "I don't know."
Due to technical difficulties, and that there hasn't been a microphone created yet that would be able to pick up all the subtle nuances of a scream of rage that intense, we now skip to the last scene in this chapter.
"Johnny?" A mournful call echoed in the black room. "Johnny, are you there? I really have to go to the bathroom."
Half an hour later. "Johnny, please! Please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything you want! I'll- I'll even apologize! Just, please! I have to go! Right now! JOHNNY!!!!"
Steps sounded on the stairs, and the door opened a crack, permitting a slim crack of light into the room, silhouetting a skinny body and spiky hair. "You want something?"
"Never mind."
I do so love the potty humor.