>the new hound (Ballboy)<
Ok, this week, listening to NPR's "Wait Wait, I know Taht" (in the car, trunkful of ordnance, yawl know me by now) one of the highlighted news items sort of grabbed me. It seems a company out there has developed (get this) Pet Implants. They're made of silicone, and they cost *hundreds*. Neuticles (tm) are actually a second-generation product. The first generation was made of polycarbonate, the rather solid plastic of which two-liter Coke bottles and bulletproof windshields are made. (I wonder what the problem was - clanking? Static electricity?)
The CEO of (i forget the company) was quoted as describing the Mark 2 Neuticles (tm) as possessing the texture and consistency of a Gummi Bear.
So I immediately thought of all my friends here, and I thank you for the a propos memory jiggle.
He wasn't Bilbo, but he was All Dog. Almost anyway, and he didn't want to talk about it really. At least they'd fitted him with placekeepers, not like Rover down the street whose empty flapper made him the block's laughingstock. Our boy could still walk the walk. In a way life was simpler now - he wasn't overcome by these contrary urges to be extra nice to Fifi next door; now he could despise her for the bitch she was.
Someone walks down the shimmering hot sidewalk. Human, young, <sniff> female. In better shape than his master's wife or either of her daughters. Our Boy saunters up to investigate. This one isn't wearing much more than a thong, but <sniff> <snuffle> it sure has stories to tell. International travel (first class) (the Cordon Bleu? 85% probable), durian, champagne ('89. Not a doubt), even hints of [mule? burro?]. Lots of other stuff, but she didn't look like she'd stand still for a detailed reading. He decided not to push his luck. Our Boy checks out the new human's tactical assault weapon. He detects the unmistakable redolence of Gummi Bear and emits an involuntary whimper. |
