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Every day, around about noon,
I go out and buy a monster balloon.
Get it filled with a gas that's lighter than air,
Then tie it real tight to a small poodle's hair.
I then watch said mutt lift high in the sky,
While some ditsy old lady starts with a cry,
"Oh no! That's
my dog that's been taken aloft,
He warms me at night and his fur is so soft."
Then, moving along at a fair decent clip,
I kidnap a chihuahua-sized dog with a "Yip!"
I stuff it into a sock and swing it around,
The while making sure it can't touch the ground.
Then I whirl it about, again and again,
Before throwing the mongrel on top of a train.
Its small, bugeyed owner, clammy skin like a frog,
Stares at me, dumbfounded, thick as a log.
I can't understand why these things have been bred,
My neighbours have three that we all wish were dead.
They bark and they bark and they bark 'most the night.
The council and police are just deaf to our plight.
I'm ridding the world of small, yapping dogs,
Like the ones carried into cafés by frogs.
So, next time you hear a small, yapping "Toy"
Step on the fucker and bring me some joy
This is how they reduce the yap dog population in Florida.
http://abclocal.go..../bizarre&id=5952832
Do a news search. It happens frequently, and often unintentionally. [Amos Kito, Feb 23 2008]
Send 'em up to Cairns
http://www.telegrap...P=ILC-mostviewedbox
They know how to deal with yapdogs in Cairns [angel, Feb 29 2008]
[link]
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Kidnap the dogs and replace them with solar-powered barking machines. The owners won't know the difference and you'll get to sleep at night. |
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I'll bundle them up and post them to the autoboner. It's 12:15 in the morning and they're still hard at it. I want them expunged from the face of the planet! |
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Bit of a rough start on the scansion, [UB]. Not up to your usual standards. Seems to need another foot (just like the mutts.) Also, //Once a month, every Tuesday ... each day// causes syntactical distress. |
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Cruelty - you're punishing the little buggers for doing what they're bred to do. |
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But it brings to mind a delightful story I once read on the New York Times magazine, by someone who as a child in the poorer parts of Harlem would kidnap the pampered dogs left tied to lampposts or parking meters outside posh cafes and shops in the fancy parts of town. He would wait a week or so for the "missing" posters to go up, spoiling the dog rotten all the while, then show up at the owner's doorstop with the dog and little brother in tow. And make a big show of how they found the dog running loose on the street, and taken it home and cared for it, and how they'd seen the posters and wanted to return it, but the little brother had fallen in love with it, and was very sad to let go of it (brother putting looking suitably heartbroken at this point, of course, but the spoiled dog would also be looking very happy with its new found friends). Invariably, they would get a huge reward from the grateful owner. |
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It's not the dog, but the owner. I have three dogs, two since they were puppies and one since he was eight (beagle/basset). The two bark, but only once, maybe twice. The old one was taught to bark by my idiot brother-in-law and the breed are consummate barkers. My wife harped in with the “can’t teach an old dog” crap, but within one year, he is down to three barks, assuming I am not in sight. He knows how long it takes me to get in range. |
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I will give you the bun(+), but only for the prose. |
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You could enter our "Dog into Space"
contest.... |
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I knew it was you when I saw the title - Is that bad? |
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OK, I'll change the first two lines. The initial idea was to write a lot of nonsense but frustration rolled in, like a fogbank on a winter evening, clouding my judgment and sense of humour. Those little bastards that were yapping last night are still going... it's 5:43am. |
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There. Fixed. I understand that some people think of this as cruelty, but it's no different to rounding them up and selling them to a crocodile farm. I even considered that the problem lies with the owner, hence the bit where I make certain they see me kidnap the mutt and send it on a little journey. |
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//I'm sure we could find some use for a low-intelligence, single-minded, aggressive, irritating and annoying animal?//
Yep, set them to writing poetic descriptions of evil plots to rid the world of dogs under a certain mass. That oughtta do it. |
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//The initial idea was to write a lot of nonsense but frustration rolled in// [marked-for-tagline] |
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Nonsense, born of acute frustration. |
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You could just get yourself a Lynx. There should be no laws against letting your cat roam free and I bet the poodles wouldn't last more than a week, two, tops. |
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//rounding them up and selling them to a crocodile farm//
...or feeding them [Link] to the neighborhood alligator. |
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I found the last paragraph sadly very
amusing. Is that wrong? |
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My ma who is still crazy and 83 years
old, gotten herself a brand new chihua-
wa, or whatever they're called, not too
long ago. And that thing yaps during all
of our conversations when I call now.
Costing me alot of money you know... |
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Claire could eat these suckas up for ya
bubba. +++++ for the prose, and the
laugh, and the visual. |
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[+]'d for the notion of randomly grabbing lapdogs, tying them to helium balloons and letting the wind waft them far, far, far away. |
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Emergency lapdog sandbags? I mean, don't just *waste* them... |
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Fifty to the sandbag... gotcha. |
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I saw that [link] item on the news this week and it brought back memories, [angel]. |
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I remember the Atkinson family had a similarly large python in their ceiling, not far from where that one was captured. It was almost a pet, and lived on a steady diet of possums, who are nocturnal and like to live in ceiling spaces during the day. "Monty" was about 15 feet long. He/she would get about a possum a week, as new ones moved into what appeared to be a vacant territory. |
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