Dir: Kimberly Kane
I’m working on a new VBS show called Sexy Slumber Party in which I have sexy slumber parties with naked porn stars and we have popcorn and girl talk until they start to cry and tell me how they were abused at a young age and that’s what drove them to hand out cinematographic blow jobs for the world to see. My first test run was with Kimberly Kane, the sexy director of this DVD. I took my dog to her apartment. I’m new to the rules of having a dog.
The last time I had a dog was when I was a kid. I loved that dog so much that I took him everywhere with me: to school, to church, to the dentist. I often thought that the makers of Sesame Street had seen me take my dog to the dentist and that’s how they came up with that “Me and My Llama Go to the Dentist” bit. I sang a very similar song when I took my dog to the dentist so I really don’t think it’s just a coincidence.
My point is I’m new to the rules of dog ownership because back then, there were no rules. And in my mind there still aren’t any. But there are. And my wife knows all of them. Not just about dogs (even though she never even had a dog before. So what makes her the authority?) but about everything: about cleaning kitty litter, about putting dishes away, about using different serving spoons for everything you serve instead of just licking the one off.
One rule she keeps bringing up is that I need to ask permission of people for whether I can bring my dog to their home. I don’t like that rule. I think it’s stupid. I don’t think my dog likes that rule either. We’re free birds, man! We don’t believe in dog rules. To humor her I lie and say that I asked if it was OK to bring the dog even though I didn’t, and then when I ring the person’s doorbell, I hold my dog up and shove his irresistible dog face in their person face and ask, “Is it OK if I bring my dog in?” This pisses my wife off to high heaven but tough titty. What’s the person going to say? No? I can’t bring my dog in? It’s too late! We are already in! My coat is off and my dog is sniffing shit! Where do you keep the beer? I planned on pulling this maneuver on Kimberly Kane but my wife thwarted my plan. “Did you ask her?” “Of course,” I replied. “You didn’t. You better call her and ask.” I didn’t. I texted. I knew we were close to her apartment, and by the time she received my text and responded, it would have been too late. It’s like I was pulling the same move except futuristic.
I guess it was lucky I texted her because when she opened the door she thanked me for giving her a heads-up and how she H-A-T-E-S people who just bring their dog without asking because once someone did that and the dog pissed in her apartment or whatever, blah, blah, blah. As she was telling her little Dog-at-My-House anecdote I started to get pissed off. Did I look like someone who had a pissing dog? Worse yet, did she not feel the class my dog was exuding? Just for that I wanted my dog to piss in her apartment. But he didn’t. Because he’s better than that. But I would not go quietly into that good night—as she kept on dog bashing and saying how gross dog pee on a carpet is, I asked her, “You do know you let strangers cum in your mouth for a living, right?”
Me and my dog totally high-fived and he told me that was a good one.
For more of Chris go to chrisnieratko.com or NJSkateshop.com.