Dec 062000
 

DawgYo, whassup all you fine bitches? This is Dawg here, the alpha male and baddest canine on the planet. Don’t talk to me about no Bulldogs or Doberman Pinschers cuz they don’t hold a cat’s tail to my supreme top dogness.

So why am I here chatting atcha? Cuz that fool Luv Doctor is still at the vet’s gettin’ his head checked. Supposedly he fell out a window or something. So, I was called upon by my master (yeah, right… fuck him), Necromancer X to fill in for the lame-ass Doctor. Sometimes I wonder who’s the bigger fool, him or that chump afro-wearing 70’s reject. So I’m here to tell all you bitches who the real top dog is, and that’s me y’all: DAWG!

Just the other day as I was doin’ it doggie style (how else would I do it) with this fine-ass bitch golden lab down the street, my master (yeah, right… fuck him) comes ditty boppin’ along whistling and hooting, “Get over here, Dawg” and shit. I was like, “Fool, I’m gettin’ me some lab slab. You best take your silly ass around the block again cuz Dawg ain’t going nowhere.” Then homie just kept walking and I was like, “Yeah, bitch, that’s right. Keep movin’. I’ll hump your leg later on.”

So after my master (yeah, right… fuck him) is out of sight, I pound out a last few thrusts and I’m done. Then the lab bitch is all, “Hey, I let you do me, now I want some kind of a commitment.” I was like, “I already committed to doin’ ya, and now I’m done. See ya!” Who’s that bitch think she is anyway? She barked some crazy shit after that, but I didn’t pay her no mind. That bitch is all bark and no bite.

So I get back to the porch and my master (yeah, right… fuck him) has closed the door to the crib. Punk-ass! I look over my shoulder and sure enough he’s coming down the street, so I wait patiently at the door for him (hey, Dawg ain’t all teeth and growls). He finally drags his slow-ass self to the door and says something about taking me to the vet to get “fixed”. Bitch! I ain’t broken! If there’s anybody around here needs fixin’ it’s you. That’s when I lunged for his package. That’s right you ball-snippin’ bastard, run!

So that’s pretty much the gist of my story. I think I’ll chase this chump’s sorry ass around the block a couple more times. Dawg out! Woof!

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 Posted by at 12:45 pm

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