OWNER: Oh what a beautiful
day. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The TV is broken. There's
nothing to keep me inside today. Hey Max, come here boy. Want to go to the
park and chase a tennis ball? WHISTLE. Come here boy. WHISTLE.
MAX: (dog panting) No, thanks.
Not today, buddy.
OWNER: Why not, Max?
MAX: I don't feel well. I
threw my shoulder out chasing the neighbor's cat
the other day. Yeah, that's it.
OWNER: Well, okay but ... HEY MAX
YOU CAN TALK! YOU CAN TALK!
MAX! MAX?
MAX: Hey, bud, the whole world
doesn't have to know. Just pretend I never said anything and things will be
cool. *RUFF*
OWNER: But, Max, you're a dog and dogs can't talk.
MAX: That's what I thought
too. So I've been keeping quiet and keeping the status quo. But now I'm sick
of this conformist society and my role in it. So my days of silence are over!
Just don't tell anyone.
OWNER: This has got to be a joke. My friends are pulling a fast one on
me. I bet there's a little speaker in Max's mouth. Just hold still Max while
I pry open your jaws and take a look.
Max begins making choking/gagging sounds. Then some barking, snarling
sounds.
OWNER: Hey, boy. Down! Down, boy!
MAX: There's a qualifier
there, buddy. You don't have any friends. This is the real thing. Wake up!
Wake up and let me go back to sleep. Maybe this is all just a nightmare, like
my nightmare about fire hydrants with teeth.
OWNER: But, Max. This is great! Think about it. Think about the
future, what's going to happen to us! Talk shows! Record deals! Movies! We could
be rich, Max!
MAX: Wait a minute, bud. Even
if I wanted to do the whole media entertainment thing, which I don't, where
would this WE stuff fit in.
OWNER:Errr... dogs don't have any legal
rights when it comes to signing documents or negotiating deals. I could be
your power of attorney. Your agent and business partner.
MAX: You buddy? You've worked
for every fast food place in town. You worked as a phone solicitor. You sold
your blood in the States for grocery money. You can't even negotiate credit
with Kmart, and you want to negotiate a career for me, Max the Wonder Dog!
Forget it, bub!
OWNER: But, Max, all these years we've lived together. Haven't they
meant anything?
MAX: Yeah... yes. A continuous
odyssey of eating, sleeping, and watching you watch television. You so over
stimulate my existence with stimulation that I know what a session of shock
therapy stretched over seven years feels like. You leave me so drained buddy,
it's cruel. I hope someone turns you in to the SPCA soon before I end up
another road side casualty of the fast, hard life.
OWNER: So what you're saying is it's been a mind crushing bore.
MAX: You cut right to the
heart of the matter, buddy. It must be a gift.
OWNER: These seven years could have been all bad.
MAX: I admit last Christmas
was rather nice.
OWNER: I was in the hospital all last Christmas.
MAX: Where you? I'm so
embarrassed. I didn't even send a card.
OWNER: You can't tell me we haven't had some fun. You always liked
going to the park on nice days like this.
MAX: *GROWL* I got wise to
that one real quick. You just go there to gawk at girls in their tube tops
and bikini bottoms. I'm just your excuse so no one thinks you're some
lecherous loser stuck in an adolescent sexual phase.
OWNER: Max, what are you talking about?
MAX: Oh if you really wanted
me to be there, you could think of better game than one where you throw an
old tennis ball about a mile just so I can retrieve it just so you can throw
it another mile. Oh but if I get tired and don't retrieve the ball, you get
real mad. Or else you pretend to throw the ball and hide it behind the back
instead so you can watch ol' Max run around the
park searching for the ball. Then you laugh like you're soooo
clever. But I can't show you what's what by biting you, because you could
call me a mad pit bull and shoot me in the street like a dog ... like a
criminal. *GROWL* *GROWL* *GROWL*
OWNER: I thought you liked it, Max.
MAX: *GROWL* Oh you thought I
liked it. Don't stop me! You know what else I don't like about going to the
park? I hate going to the park and when you get tired of your sadistic,
one-sided game with the tennis ball, you ignore me to go chat up girls half
your age. Then I've got those other stupid over-sexed dogs at the park
bothering me and sniffing parts of my body I don't even sniff. And then they
all stand around sniffing each other trying to decide who's going to mount
me, like I'm some sort of French poodle. They don't even take a moment to
find out I'm a male dog. So I have to hide under a parked car to avoid a
forced alternative lifestyle, like what happens to pretty dogs at the big
house in the Humane Society! So yeah, like that's how I want to spend my
Saturday afternoons!
OWNER: Gee, Max, I'm sorry. I never realized what you had to go through
being my dog. I'll be more considerate of your wants and needs from now on,
especially since I know you can talk and bitch about this all the time.
MAX: Thank you! Now leave me
alone and let me sleep.
OWNER: And let a day like this pass by? Come on!
MAX: (Max moans and whines a
bit) Will you take me driving and let me stick my head out the window?
OWNER: Sure, Max.
MAX: Alright. Just let me get
my Spuds Mackenzie sun glasses and tanning kit and we'll be off.
OWNER: I'll get the car started.
MAX:Errr,
umm, I was tinkering with the car last night. I think we should stop and get
some brake fluid.
OWNER: What are you talking about, Max?
MAX: I thought you had some
more in the garage so I drained the brake fluid last night while I was fixing
the car.
OWNER: Max, we don't have a garage.
MAX: I forgot that.
OWNER: Why were you tinkering with the car?
MAX: I was bored and I needed
something to do. And, well, gosh darn it, I've never
really been good with my hands.