Talking Dog Conspiracy
First attempt


Somebody had pushed a pot of good ale towards the middle of the room. Ozzie the pitbull bulldozed past the Chihuahua on his way to drink , and sent the thing reeling towards the couch where it struck with a whimper and a thud. Halle licked at her cunt, (To make sure it was clean.) and looked up at the three male dogs in front of her.
“Sooo?” She inquired with her hind leg lifted high into the air.
“So we fuckin get him! What the fuck you think I been talking about over here!” Answered Ozzie. He lowered his head into the ale and drank.
The black Chihuahua and the brown pointer nodded with apparent uncertainty, looking towards the tan mutt laying underneath the table. Fonzie sat up and told Ozzie, “You’re too drunk to be calling the shots.”
“Hey listen here you faggety little mutt…”
Fonzie perked his ears up and towards Ozzie. They all concentrated on him, waiting to hear what he would say.
“Um, um… Just shut up muthafucka, or I’ll kick your ass!”
“You do drink to much, Oz. “ Said Halle, walking over to the ale.
“Quiet, bitch!” Growled Ozzie.
The brown dog lowered her head in compliance and cowered toward the ground, still inching her way toward the pot of ale. The pitbull chomped menacingly at the air in front of her snout , and she surrendered, dropping to the ground at his feet. Ozzie grasped her throat between his powerful jaws and held her there.
“Whorebag! Thought the tiny Chihuahua. He felt something in his heart that made him sad. He too now wanted to drink.
It seemed like a normal day for dogs, but not so. A murder was being planned, and the four canines took the matter quite seriously. They all belonged to a man named Manny, once before. They each had their reasons for revenge. The main reason why they were so pissed was because he had abandoned each and every one of them, at the same park, in the middle of the night. They suffered cold nights and hunger, but had somehow found each other as they were abandoned by their asshole master.
The four dogs found a home in a weather beaten old wood garage a couple of miles from the park, with an old man named Pete who lived on his own in a little house, and fed the dogs and brought them things to drink.


McCormick. This is the first writing of the TDC. There is a second and hopefully finished version coming soon. I think this entry is o.k. I laboured at trying to get the precise mannuerism of the dogs. Basically, this half page of writing turned into notes for the second version.