The dog that bit the shit out of me

It took time to get to where we were.

Molly, our 17 year old senior dog, was depressed. She laid in bed all day, she would wet in bed. She refused to eat and would bite us if we wanted to give her attention. Life was bad for Molly. The breaking point for Molly was one night I step in the kitchen where she stood with pee all around her. I bent over to tell her no with my finger pointing and shaking it at her muzzle.

Molly could take no more. Whatever reason it was, Molly saw that finger as an opportunity. She watched it like it was prime rib flapping before her chops. That was the moment in a instance that senior dog jumped up and latched on to my finger like a tick on fat warm skin. I yelp, “Help!” I wiggled. I shook my arm up and down and that dog went up and down with my finger holding on for dear life. “Fuck’n shit! Help me!” I cried. The first one down the stairs was my Spanish speaking mother-in-law in her see through pajamas without a bra.

“Javi! Fucking help me!” My mother-in-law stood there with her hands over her mouth. I was still standing in dog piss as my dog hung from my finger. My husband finally came running down stairs to see me crying. My face red. The dog and I both wet from the piss splashing every time I lowered my arm to shake her off.

Javi ran to Molly and picked up her body to where it was level with my finger and she released the grip she had. My finger was torn just a little. The problem was part of her tooth broke off into the skin.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“What the fuck did you do to that dog?”

“Molly? Now you care more about Molly than me?”

“You had to do something.”

“Yeah, I did. I told her no. She peed on the floor and I’m tired of it. I said bad dog and shook my finger at her.”

“Well, don’t. Let her do what she wants. She’s a dog. She’s old. Leave her alone.”

“No. I’m sick and tired of everyone in this house doing what they want. For once I want her to pee outside.”

The blood from my finger was all over my arm. Tears down my face. “You don’t give a shit about me. Look at this blood. There is something in my fucking finger and you’re yelling at me.”

To be continued……

Daddy is a seismographer

It was black Friday, Vern and her father drove to the King of Prussia mall in Prussia, Pennsylvania. After making the way around the first floor of the mall, the two had lunch. Vern’s father was tired of shopping. “Vern, can we go home now?”

“Daddy, this is the best shopping day of the year.  I’m not finished.”

“What’s all this stuff you’re buying?”


“What kind of things?”

“Just some things.”

“Sweetheart, who are you buying that stuff for?”

“Fine daddy, all this stuff is for me. I’m going around buying things for me. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Well, yeah, I kind of do. My feet feel like I’ve been in a twelve-mile road march with a ruck sack. I want to go home, take off my pants, drink a beer and watch television.”

“Daddy, I always take care of you. After everything happened, I stopped taking care of me. I am ready to start treating myself. This day is mine, so you can sit over here on this bench. It has a great view of the first floor and second floor.  I only need to go in one more store.”

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Vern’s father sat on the cross walk on the wooden bench. “Hurry up, I’ll wait right here.”

“Fine, don’t get adventurous, just stay there.”

“With feet like mine, I’m not going anywhere.”

Vern walked off in the direction of the nearest department store. Daddy sat on the bench playing a shooting game on his cell phone. He started getting agitated, because whenever someone walked in front of him the floor would shake. The shaking was strong enough to lose aim and cause him to lose the game. He kept attempting to play the game over and over again, but the vibrations were getting worse with the growing crowds. Frustrated he stopped playing the game.  Searching on his phone, he found an application called seismograph. He wondered for a moment if he could actually measure the vibrations of the floor of the people walking by.  He downloaded the application and began to use it.

Vern,toting two large shopping bags, walked towards her father. She could see her father was up to no good.  He was sitting on the same bench, but when large groups of people would walk by, he would start chuckling while looking at his phone.

“Daddy, what in good nations are you doing?”


“Let me rephrase that; what are you doing with your phone?”

“I’m using my seismograph when people walking by. Watch, it’s funny.”

“Daddy, that’s so rude! Put that thing away. People are going to think you’re making fun of them.”

“I kind of am.”

“Daddy, you cannot go around measuring the vibrations created by people.”

“Who said?”

“I do. Seismographs are to measure seismic waves of earthquakes. You’re being rude.”

“But it’s not fair to me when people stomping, running and giggling by are messing up my video game. I lost a lot of points here.”

“Fine, old man let’s go home.”

“I’ll go home, but I’m not an old man. I’m a warrior.”

“Really, I think today you are more a seismographer than a warrior.”

Whatcha doing? Thanksgiving

“Whatcha doing?”


“But you never exercise”

“Yeah, but Thanksgiving is this week, duh…”

“So, how’s exercise going to help?”

“I’m making room for lots of food.”

“That’s stupid.

“Noooo, It’s smart. When everyone else is puffy and full with food, I’ll be looking good.”


“Yeah, I’m gonna exercise for the next three days. I’ll take little breaks, but never stop. Then on Thanksgiving I can rest.”

“Is this your list of thanks?”

“Noooo, it’s a list of food I’m gonna eat.”

“My question to you is:  What would the Pilgrims do?”

“How would I know?”

“Do you know the Nina, Pinta, Santa Maria and Mayflower?”

“No, I drive a Ford.”

“They’re not cars.  Ok, let me ask you: How did the Pilgrims celebrate Thanksgiving?.”

“I don’t know!  I was not invited.  I’m spending it here with my family.”

“Fine,  what do you think about Plymouth Rock?”

“I don’t like rock. I like country music.”

“That’s not what I asked. Whatever…”

“Shut up and hand me that metal weight ball.”

“Kettle ball?”

“Nooo, I don’t need a kettle.  I’m not cooking.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupider!  You keep talking about Plymouth Rock, Pilgrims, Pinta, Nina, Santa Maria, and stuff like that.  Thanksgiving is in three days.  Focus!  I need to exercise!”

“That’s not what Thanksgiving is about.  It’s not about seeing how much one can eat.”

“Oooohhh, I get it… You are preparing for Black Friday.”

“Whatever, I give up.”

Allergic to Peanus

“Whatcha doing?”

Fay  shakes her head no, but says nothing.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I cun’d ulk”


“Peanus, I’m allergi du peanus.”  A small amount of drool slides down the corner of her mouth.

“Wooo, TMI!” Then he points to the drool that has escaped her mouth.

“Nooo, I cun’d pronunciae cuz my tun has bisers. You’re sooo ruuue! It maes me drool.”  Fay uses her sleeve to wipe the drool off.


She opens her mouth to show the blisters on her tongue to Max.

“Oooh, I get it. You’re not acting stupid.  You just can’t talk because you have blisters. Ok. Why did you get the blisters?”


Max looks at her with a very confused face. “Stop saying that word.  That’s bad!”

“Nooo, peanus nu penis!”

Frustrated, she gets up and walks to the freezer.  She pulls out the Jamoca Fudge ice cream Max had brought over.  Scooping out a spoon full she looks closely. “Heeereee” She shows the small morsels left.


“Yeees, I’m allergi du peanus.”

“Then why’d you eat the ice cream?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Cuz I liked id a waat.”

Limb pick up

“Whatcha doing?”


“Where ya going?”


“Why ya wearing that?”


“The doctor scrubs with rain boots”

“Because I don’t want to ruin my clothes.”

“What’s in your pocket?”

“Rubber gloves”

“Why do ya have rubber gloves?”

“I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”

“Ok, what exactly are ya gonna be doing in Radcliff?”

“I’m picking up limbs. I need to have the gloves so I don’t get blood on my hands.”

“What kind of limbs are ya gonna pick up?”

“You know arms and legs.”

“Noooo, your not gonna pick up those kind of limbs. It’s supposed to be tree limbs.”

“If that’s that the case, I’ll just stay home.”

“So why were you willing to go pick up arms and legs but not tree limbs?”

“Because I might have met a zombie.”

Halloween rules

“Whatcha doing?”

“Making a sign”

“What kind of sign?”


“For what?”

“Halloween, duh… I’m making a sign for Halloween.  These are Trick or Treat rules.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.  Rules are good.”

“What’s the first rule?”

Take only one candy:  Why do they need to take the candy? I thought you’re handing out the candy.”

“Because sometimes just when I’m putting the candy into a bag of one kid, another kid will reach into the bowl and grab handfuls of candy.”

“Ok, go on. What’s rule two?”

Stay off the grass: What are going to do to them if they get on the grass?”

“Spray them.”

“Oh, with a water gun or silly spray?”

“Noooo, the water hose!”

“That’s bad.  Their candy and costume will get all wet and ruined.”

“Nope that’s good. If they don’t want to get wet they shouldn’t  step on the grass.”

“Fine, what’s rule number three?”

No public bathroom:”

“Do you really think they are going to use your bathroom?”

“Little people, little bladders, I’m not taking chances.”

“Fine. What’s rule number four?”

If you can’t read this sign, GO HOME!

“That’s really bad.”

“Nope, it’s good.  If they cannot read it means one of two things: 1. they are too young to trick-or-treat, or 2. they are too stupid.  Either way the kid deserves a trick not a treat.”

“That’s a bad rule. You can’t put an age or educational limits on fun.”

“Well, I did.”

“What’s the  next rule?”

No scary mask:  Really why this one?”

“They scare me.”

“Geez, that’s what Halloween’s about!  You’re supposed to get dressed up and scare the begebers out of people.  Spooky and scary masks kind of go with the theme of haunted houses, haunted trails, horror movies and stuff like that.”

“I don’t like it. Rule stays.”

“Whatever. What’s the next rule?”

No infants

“You’re heartless. What’s the last rule?”

Must have proof of age and be younger than twelve:

“Seriously, why must they be younger than twelve?”

“The zoo is doing the same.”

“Well you’re not a zoo.”

“True, but the newspaper says you must be younger than twelve.”

“Still, why do you have to ruin it for the infants, nonreaders and the older kids?”

“Because the parents eat the infant’s and nonreaders candy and the teenagers eat too much candy.”

“Like I said before; these rules are bad and you’re being heartless…  With all these rules no one is going to want to come here and trick-or-treat!  You’re mom has bought all this candy for nothing.”

“Nope, I can eat it.”

“But you’re on a diet!”

“Come ooonn!  I can break a few rules.  It’s Halloween!”

Sheer top

“Whatcha doing?”


“Whatcha shopping for?”


“What’s that?”

“A shirt”

“Why is it clear?”

“Not clear, it’s sheer.”

“Clear or sheer, it’s like not having a top on at all.”

“But it is.”

“You should save your money and just not wear a shirt.”

“I can’t just walk around in my bra.  I could get arrested.”

“Yet you are willing to spend fifty dollars on this see-through top?”

“Leave me alone.”

“No, that top is bad.”

“No, that top is good. I’m getting the top.  It’s final.”

“Now what are you looking for? Clear pants?”


“Oh, yeah, I forgot sheer pants.  Are you looking for sheer pants to go with your sheer shirt?”

“That’s stupid.  I’m looking for a sweater.”


“Because it’s winter, I can’t go around town in a sheer top without a long sleeve turtleneck sweater.  That’s stupid.”

“So it’s not stupid to wear a clear, oops forgotten again, sheer top, but stupid to not wear a sheer top under a turtleneck sweater in the winter.”

“Yeah, duh…”

“Well, if you’re going to buy a turtleneck sweater then why are you going to waste fifty dollars on a sheer shirt that no one will even see?”

“Because it’s fashion!”

Cookie dough

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m making cookies.”

“No, whatcha eating?”

“Cookie dough”

“That’s not good.”

“Yes, it’s real good. I made it.”

“No, I mean eating raw eggs is not good.”

“So, who said I’m eating raw eggs?”

“Well, does your recipe call for eggs?”

“No, that’s stupid. My recipe doesn’t talk.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Stop talking and hand me the spoon over there.”


“Because I need it”

“But all the cookies are now in the oven now.”

“So, I want the spoon to eat the dough.”


“Yes, give me the darn spoon!”

“No, I’m not going to let you eat more raw eggs.”

“I told you. I’m not eating raw eggs. I’m eating cookie dough!”


“Whatcha doing?”


“No. Whatcha doing?”

“Go away”

“Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing, go away.”

“If I were to go away, when could I come back?”

“Three days”


“Because I said so”

“And in three days that will change?”

“Just go away”

“No. What did I do?”

“Nothing!  Leave me alone.”

“If I didn’t do anything, then I’m not leaving.”

“Leave…P E R I O D!”

“No, you bother me all the time. Until I know what I did, I’m not leaving.”

“Aghh!  I told you, nothing.  Let me spell it out to you.  PPP EEE RRR III OOO DDD!”

“NNN OOO! I’m not going anywhere.”

“How long do I have to spell it out for you?”



“That is more like an exclamation mark.”

“No, it’s not!  I’m on my period. Get it?”

“Ohhh, now I get it.”

Where’s my glasses?

“Vern where’s my glasses?”

“In the center console”

“Damn it, these are my old pair.”

“Daddy they’ll work. Just wear them.”

“No, no they’ve been crushed by my butt.  They’re all bent up, old and ugly.  Plus they give me migraines.”

“Fine, then wear the paper ones.”

“I can’t see.  The sun is in my eyes.”  He fiddled around searching for his sunglasses.

“Where’s my sunglass?”

“Why would I know?”

“Come on Vern, I need something to protect my eyes. The sun is killing me.”

“All you had done is get your eyes dilated.  The way you’re acting you’d think you’ve been shot.”

“This is worse.  I’m dying here.  Let me wear yours.  This tinted paper crap is not doing it for me.”


“I need them! All you’re doing is driving.  Here you can have the paper ones the doctor gave me”

“Fine” Vern handed her sunglasses to her father.  He slid them on.  He adjusted his seat so he was leaning back but enough he could still see out the window.  Vern drove to the grocery store.  She parked the car in the back of the parking lot.  “Daddy, I’m going in the store.  I’ll be right back.”  He did not say anything but nodded his head in agreement. 

Later a car full of teenagers drove by.  They noticed the old man with long curly gray hair wearing the large sunglasses with sparkles around the rim and large gold laminated V on the side.  They honked the horn. “Whoo-hoo!  Hey, good look’n!  Sexy glasses!”

Vern was making her way towards the car.  She could hear the ruckus of the teenagers. She could tell the boy’s catcalls were harmless.  She was smitten with laughter.  The boys noticed her walking that way, so they drove off.

“What the hell is wrong with those kids?”

“Maybe you should look in the mirror.”  She pulled down the visor.  He looked in the mirror.

“Ah! I look like a Hollywood drag queen! Why’d you let me wear these awful things?”

Chuckling she said, “I tried. You insisted. You get what you deserve. Those are very glamorous sunglasses.”

“Not funny, Vern. Not funny at all.”