911? My name is Mrs. Cuthbert, and I want to report some obscene behavior across the street from my house!
Around 5:30 AM his cell phone began to ring. Chris reached over the bed, grabbed his pants off the floor, rummaged through pockets until he found his phone, flipped it open, checked the number (it was Carrie, his next door neighbor), then pressed the “talk” button.
Chris: “Yeah. What’s up Carrie?”
Carrie: “You were probably asleep, huh?”
Chris: “Yeah. What do you need?”
Carrie: “Can you hear your dog barking?”
Chris: (He raises his head and listens) “Yeah…now that you mention it.”
Carrie: “Well, she’s been going on like that non-stop for the past half hour. Maybe you could do something about it? I can’t sleep with all that noise!”
Chris: “Yeah, sure. I’ll go out and get her. Sorry about that.”
Carrie: “Ok, thanks. Much appreciated.”
“What the hell is she barking at,” he wondered. He got up, put on his pants, and went out to get her. Ordinarily he kept her in the back yard at night, chained to her ‘dogloo.’ But last night he’d forgot, and she was still in the front yard. Bad idea, as she had a tendancy to bark at night when left in front, but almost never did in back.
Chris: “Come on Snappy, let’s get your ass out of the red zone.”
Snappy: (Using dog-speak; a language few humans can understand) “F**k you! Why don’t you go back there and try sleeping in that imitation plastic eskimo slum?”
Chris: “Dammit Snappy, get your rearend back there!”
Snappy: “Hey, can’t you see I’m busy here? I mean, think about it! I’m covering your butt from dusk to dawn, trying to keep an eye on every damn thing that squeeks within a quarter mile…”
Chris: “Look, Snappy, I’m not going to tell you again! Get yourself into the back yard or I’m going to call Carrie and have her send “Prozac” over for a visit…and you know what that means.”
Snappy: “Yeah, I know what that means. Last time he dropped by for a ‘visit’ I couldn’t sit down for damn near a week!”
She grudgingly walked over and pushed her way through the one-way “dog door” cut into the backyard fence. Chris met her around back and clipped the chain to her collar. “Good girl! Now get in there (pointing to the “dogloo”), curl up, and keep your mouth shut. OK?” Snappy complied, and Chris returned to his bedroom, pulled off his pants, and got back into bed. Ten minutes later, and just as he’d drifted back to sleep, the phone rings again. “Oh, Jesus,” he groans. “Now what?” Same drill: pants, phone, number…
Chris: “Yeah, Carrie. What now?”
Carrie: “Something funny’s going on here. Since I was up, I decided to check my email. Mostly spam, of course, penis enlargement, letter from Africa, etc., but there was one VERY STRANGE message that I thought you should know about.”
Chris: “Carrie, it’s a quarter to six in the morning. Couldn’t you just forward it to me?”
Carrie: “Well, it came from Snappy at nextdoor dot com. Does that mean anything to you?”
Chris: “What? You’re kidding me. Ok, go ahead.”
Carrie: “It says: ‘Ms. Carrie, About an hour ago your dog, Prozac, got up on top of the couch–the one under your living room window–and began exposing himself to me. He then proceeded to make a variety of the most lewd, vulgar gestures you could possibly imagine. I mean, it was even disgusting for a dog to watch. Imagine if Mrs. Cuthbert across the street had looked out her window and seen it! Boy, would your phone be ringing off the hook! Anyway, knowing that you’re a nice person, and wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior, I did my best to get your attention so you could put a stop to it. I barked as loudly as I could at your bedroom window for at least a half hour, but apparently you were sleeping too soundly to hear me. Of course Mr. Chris finally did, and came out mad as hell. By that time, of course, Prozac had got down off the couch and disappeared. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what Prozac was up to, and suggest that you might have a little talk with him about his behavior. Also, please let him know that the next time he lifts his leg within snapping distance of our fence… Well, I’m sure I need say no more. He’ll get the point. Your friend and neighbor, Snappy.’
So…tell me Chris, am I supposed to believe that your dog has a little PC laptop in her igloo?”
Chris: “I’m sorry she woke you up. I really am. But I’m trying to get some f**king sleep here. Give me a break!” Click
Laughing, Carrie hangs up the phone and begins to type…
Subject: Whiny little bitch…
…and just as she presses the ‘SEND’ key, a patrol car with red and blue lights flashing pulls quietly into her driveway.