Wednesday, October 7, 2009

No. 73 "You're Welcome, Bob Barker."

I finally got my dog Buddy neutered the other day after putting it off for over two years and tricking myself into thinking that I could monetize his seed. When I sat him down to tell him the bad news he didn't take it exactly how I imagined. Instead of pleading to change my mind and throwing himself on the ground he just looked at me strangely with an expression that said: "Bro, you got food or not? You're wasting my time" and then pleasured himself. Like father, like son.

Unfortunately for Buddy there wasn't another option to getting neutered. He doesn't have the skills (or opposable thumbs) needed to pull-out properly. I thought about telling him to just have butt-sex, although I'm pretty sure dogs don't have two holes. I'm not a connoisseur of the sexual anatomy of dogs so I thought I'd just stay away from that one. And they do not make condoms for dogs that I know of. I attempted to create a make-shift doggy condom using a Doritos bag and a hair-tie but was vastly unsuccessful.

My mom pretty much forced me to get Buddy neutered after she made a bargain with me that someone was going to get neutered in the near future, me or my dog. As annoying as my balls are when it's 110 degrees outside while I'm wearing silk underwear I decided to go with the latter.

I wanted to take Buddy to the dog park to let him have one last screw before his manhood was taken away. (And I'm not talking about marriage.) Things didn't go as I had planned because every time that I went up to someone and asked casually if my dog could fornicate with theirs, I was given a dirty look and called a "sick bastard." After multiple tries and eventually being escorted from the park I gave up and bought Buddy a prostitute.

Apparently hookers aren't into beastiality. Since when do women whose incomes come from sucking hobo's dicks have morals? Another mystery of the universe I suppose. No final screw for Buddy before the castration. After I banged the hooker I made an appointment for Buddy with the scrodem guillotine and was on my way.

I learned that I had to check Buddy into this ball-cutting-off-facility (or whatever it's called) at 7:30. You must be asking yourself: "7:30 at night? That's kind of late, dude" Well dude, I was equally as confused, but soon learned that it was in the A.M. The last time I was up at 7:30 in the morning I was coming down from 'shrooms, and I certainly was not in the proper state of mind to be driving to pet hospitals.

Once I awoke for the big day, I woke up Buddy and grabbed his leash. He thought I was going to take him on a stroll at dust. Needless to say, my dog doesn't know me very well. I put him in the car and I drove down to the pet hospital. Buddy kept looking out the window at parks I continued to pass and gave me a confused look as if to say: "Dude, you've missed like ten parks, what the fuck?"

I finally got to the pet hospital and had to check in and fill out paperwork, while Buddy barked at other dogs and attempted to attack them. I have a feeling the conversation went something like this:

Buddy: "Hey you! Dog over there! What is this place?"

Other Dog: "Dude, he didn't tell you? This is where they chop off our balls so we can't bang bitches no more."

Buddy: "No fucking way! Owner with brown hair (I assume he doesn't know my name since he's a dog) would never do that do me!"

Other Dog: "Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that's what is about to happen."

Buddy: "You lie! I'll kill you mother fucker! Bark! Bark! Bark!"

Just a guess, but I'm pretty sure that's how it went down. Anyway, after I filled out the paperwork that Buddy kept trying to knock off of my lap, I gave Buddy over to some woman who coerced me through guilt and eyebrow raises to purchase expensive pain killers. I looked around this pet hospital and not a man could be found. The secretary was a woman, the technicians were women and the mean paperwork bitch was a woman. I have a feeling that these broads get some sort of kick out of de-balling dogs. Just a thought...

Later that day, the secretary interrupted my mid-afternoon nap to let me know that Buddy was dead. Just kidding. You almost cried for a second didn't you? Pussy. She told me that Buddy was ready to be picked up and after napping for an additional thirty minutes I left and picked his castrated ass up.

He was really timid and probably high from all the medication he was on. Unfortunately it does not work for humans. Believe me, I asked. They recommended coerced me into buying a cone so his self esteem would fall even lower. I bought it because it would make a great toy to put on drunk people and I enjoy seeing my dog bump into walls.

And bump into walls he did. After laughing hysterically and taking numerous pictures I gave it a rest and finished the rest of my nap. He looked so sad in that cone though. I wanted to take it off of him but knew he'd just start licking the empty sack his where balls used to dangle and create an infection on himself and my wallet. Luckily, he only had to wear his retard cone for a couple days and was very happy to be able to walk around the house without knocking over glass vases. Its like when a pregnant woman finally pops out her baby. No more knocking over shit on tables. I'm sure it's a nice feeling, but I'm never going to be castrated or pregnant so I'll never know.

Overall, I'm glad I got Buddy neutered. He's calmer now and I don't have to worry about paying for a doggy abortion (or performing one myself.) If I learned one thing from this experience it is this: If the animal kingdom had laws, all male dogs would be convicted rapists.

1 comment:

Breona said...

Effing genius lol

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...