Sunday, September 13, 2009

Woman Strangled News at Ten


The van with Max and Tig rolled up beside them and slowed to a stop.
Tig powered the window halfway down. "Lucky the big dog got here in time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, fist on hip.
"It means you're a Chihuahua-mix trying to enter yourself against Kennel Club purebreds. Look at you. you can't do the news looking like that."
"Already did."
Max wore the dumbfounded expression of a man who'd just thwarted a home invasion, only to be electrocuted as he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator to celebrate.
Tig's eyes blazed like black fire. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Rough."
She pivoted on one bare foot, making barking noises ruff-ruff-ruff all the way back to where Reggie now stood beside the van. When she yanked open the door, she yelled, "And I'm not a Chihuahua, you big, overgrown, story-stealing Rottweiler. I'm an Irish Terrier and I'm about to become First in Show.
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