Psycho Dog

"Had a dog I couldn’t get rid of, a psycho terrier who barked incessantly at any provocation whatsoever. 

And in an irritating high pitched yap at that like chalk on blackboard or a bus screeching to a halt.

Tried to palm him off on my boyfriend, my mum, my mum’s boyfriend, the bloke down the pub.

No takers.

They all knew his nature.

DAMN!"

Stilettos

Stilettos make him shake cos when he was a pup he was a sweet little darling and the girls loved his big round eyes and tickled his ears and stroked him under the chin and on his belly and he’d roll over in puppy delight until one angsty stilettoed lass came along and spitefully stood on his puppy dog tail.

This incident ended his innocence when it came to women.

‘Happens to us all’ said his dad. 

 

Suburban Nemesis

He tries to be good but has some innate tendency to get it wrong, to stay in bed too late, to not be arsed, to come across as plain odd.

He’s an expert at misunderstanding the complexities of social etiquette and doing what’s expected. He dribbles a bit and scratches his arse and has a reputation for spilling red wine on cream carpets. 

He doesn’t watch the relevant TV programmes either cos he doesn’t have a TV and his clothes are scruffy, in fact he rarely takes them off and the chemical sprays of human hygiene make him cough.

He feels the world is in cohorts to chain him to a desk, in an office where double-glazed windows are tinted and locked. A place with CCTV cameras on all floors, cards to swipe in and out of all doors; his ID computerised on endless files.

His paranoia is continually on the rise.