Assignment 01.2

Talking Dog Conspiracy
by Manny Califaz (edited by Sean McCormick)

1
         There was a scampering of claws approaching the open garage door and a pack of dogs burst through a cloud of dust, reminiscent of Mexican bandits on horseback, rumbling through the Chihuahua desert. A red nosed Pitbull lead the pack, followed by a black and tanned Mutt and a brown Pointer who followed hurriedly behind him. A tiny black Chihuahua brought in the rear in full stride. His tongue trailed towards his left ear, his small hind paws flying past his chest with each push from his front paws.
         They entered the garage with much commotion.
         “What the hell happened back there?” growled Ozzie the Red Nose.
         “Dog Catchers! Dog Catchers!” yipped the Chihuahua. He trembled uncontrollably.
         “Are they coming? Somebody peek out! Are they Coming?” whined Halle the brown Bitch.
         “Shush! Quiet everyone! Let me see.” Fonzie the Mutt approached the door cautiously. He got down low to the ground and stuck his nose out the door and sniffed. He only smelled the squirrels in the trees. He inched his head out into the open and looked around. Not seeing anything he slowly stood on all four legs and scanned from side to side. He listened attentively.
         “Well?” asked Ozzie
         “Nothing,” replied Fonzie.
         There were old torn blankets scattered about the timeworn garage. Here and there lay dispersed cushions and stained pillows. Charlie the Chihuahua found a spot with a blanket and crawled underneath it. After much tossing around, he settled and poked his snout out. He feared dog catchers very much.

2
         Ozzie marched back and forth excitedly, chest out, stomping the ground from time to time. “How the fuck? Who…?” He looked about confused.
         “Fucking dog catchers, man. Four of them.” Charlie’s trembling snout recounted from beneath the blanket.
         “I told you it was a bad idea, Oz! You almost got us nabbed, DUMBASS!” Fonzie was angry and he showed his teeth.
         “Who the fuck would ever guess to check the alley?” The Pitbull’s chest rumbled and he stepped towards Fonz. “No way. Just wouldn’t happen like that. Who would check the alley, FONZIE?”
         “You don’t know shit, Oz! You damned drunk!” Fonzie’s back hair spiked up now. He inched closer to the Pitbull. He just wasn’t intimidated by the brute.
         “Come on, Doggs. Calm down. We don’t need this right now."
         “Halle. Quiet bitch! They’re big boys. Let them be.” The Chihuahua quipped. He so wanted to see Ozzie get fucked up.
         “I eat Mutts for Breakfast! And who you callin’ dumbass?” The Pitbull began planning lunch. “This guy is so screwed!” he thought to himself.

3
         Pete heard the ruckus and he cursed the dogs as he sauntered over to the garage.
         It was late December and it was too cold for an old man to be outside. The old writer flung open the side door and stepped into the garage.
         “What the hell is going on in here!” he yelled. The dogs stopped barking. They looked at the old man with their gazes lowered to the ground. “You!” he waved his cane at the Pitbull. The Pitbull squinted his eyes and slowly got away from Pete.
         “Dog catchers!” said Charlie the Chihuahua.
         “We almost got nabbed,” whined Halle.
         “Quiet, bitch!” scowled Pete. This made Halle very sad and she found a corner and whimpered. “Now, what the fuck is going on here? I’m trying to type and all I hear is You motherfuckers!”
         “We almost got nabbed over in the Alley. The heat came down on us fast. Dog Catcher’s, man,” Fonzie told Pete.
         “You, mean, it didn’t go down?” The old man looked at all the dogs. They all shook their heads from side to side. “You guys are freakin’ retarded!” The old man roared with laughter and he slapped his knee and held on to his side. “You pack of dults will get him one day!” He stepped with his cane and made his way to the door.
         “Feed us,” said Charlie. “Don’t forget, okay?”
         The old man turned and shook his finger at all the dogs. “No more barking! Quiet now, hear?” he scolded them and they all looked very sad. “Bad Dogs!” He gave a final shake of the finger and left.
         Once outside, the old writer pulled his notebook out of his back pocket and started jotting down bits and pieces of conversation. He chuckled at the dogs. They always made him laugh. They also inspired him tremendously. He made his way to the house. The neighborhood was quiet now. He hurried to his typewriter thinking, “In a while I’ll bring out a pot of some good ale. That will be some fuckin funny shit!”