LOVE DOG

On their third date Dave told Carol the story of Linda and the dog.
Linda's Dog was always right there.
It was big.
It was black and shaggy.
Its teeth were long and yellow.
Linda thought it was cute.
The dog was in love with Dave.
When Dave and Linda kissed, the dog joined in.
It slobbered all over Dave's face.
Its breath was like a sewer.
Linda gave the dog licks from her ice cream.
"A dog's mouth," said Linda, "is cleaner than a man's."
The dog jumped on the bed with Linda and Dave.
It liked to lick Dave's crotch.



It begged at the table.
Linda fed it scraps from Dave's plate.
Dave wanted to feed it steak and razor blades.
It peed in Dave's car.
When Linda wasn't looking, Dave peed on the dog.
Linda liked to wrestle with the dog on the floor in her underwear.
Its penis was as red as a pomegranate.
Linda laughed.
Dave wondered what might be going on when he wasn't there.
Linda told Dave he was paranoid.



Dave wanted to throw the dog from an overpass.
He wanted to drive to the country, throw a stick, and drive away.
He wanted to accidentally back his car over it.
Linda told Dave he was emotionally distant.
Dave told Linda he was allergic.
Linda told Dave he was insecure.
Dave told Linda she was bipolar.
Linda told Dave he was moody.
Dave told Linda she was walking a thin line.
Linda demanded the key to her apartment back.
Dave explained to Carol that the experience had left him deeply scarred, apprehensive, unwilling to reach out.
Carol understood perfectly because all of Linda's friends hated Linda's dog.
Linda actually introduced Carol to Dave.
All he had really wanted, Dave told Carol, their perspiration pooling on the battered sheets as the dawn sun smirked through the window at them and warmed their feet while Carol's cockatiel squawked for its breakfast in the living room, was love.
Woman love.






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