Have you ever been in the front yard as a kid wrestling with your buddy, laughing your head off, rolling around, just living life, when the family dog decides he?s joining the match whether you invited him or not.

Your buddy?s got you pinned, you?re choking on your own laughter, and here comes this four legged maniac exploding out the door like he?s been waiting all day to suplex somebody.

No warning.

No hesitation.

Just airborne stupidity.

He lands on top of you both, barking like he?s calling the cops, grabs your brand new Tommy Hilfiger shirt, and tears a hole in it big enough to drive a truck through.

Then your buddy decides that?s the perfect moment to slam your face directly into a steaming pile of fresh dog shit.

Not yesterday?s dried-up stuff.

I mean the morning delivery.

Warm.

Soft.

Evil.

You shoot up like someone lit you on fire, flinging shit everywhere.

Your buddy is dying laughing.

The dog is spinning around like he?s possessed.

You reach for him, ready to regain whatever dignity you have left, and the little bastard tackles your legs, flips you on your back, and wraps his paws around your neck like he?s confessing his love for you.

Then he starts humping your head.

Full commitment.

Zero shame.

????

This dog thinks you?re the prom date he waited his whole life for.

Your buddy is screaming.

You?re screaming.

The dog is in his own adult film.

You try turning your head away from him, which was the worst choice you could have made because he smears a mix of shit, grass, slobber, and humiliation across your cheek like he?s decorating a cake for your birthday.

Now you?re done.

Your fun meter is empty.

Your pride is gone.

our face smells like a barnyard crime.

Your shirt is ruined beyond repair. And the dog is still doing the funky chicken on your leg like you owe him money.

Your buddy is rolling in the grass, wheezing.

You finally snap and yell, "That?s it," and take off after him.

But the horny little bastard is still grinding away like someone promised him a medal.

And then you hear it.

Your mother.

Laughing in the window.

She thinks the dog is just play-fighting.

Yeah, okay, Mom.

Real cute.

Get Loverboy back in the house before he destroys the rest of my wardrobe.

??????????????...and that's callin' it like it is!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Canadian artist & digital troublemaker Colin John Cook shares his louder-than-life, awkward, and honest-as-hell stories. Packed with humour, real talk & creative insights in a no filter, digital comedy space that laughs at life & calls it like it is. He is also the Founder and President of

The Hidden Gallery - Art Studio & Micro Theatre

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