Dog

[Published in Whispers of Wickedness E-Zine as Clint Venezuela]

“I saw a dog today,” my wife said.
“No shit,” I replied.
“It’s true.”
“What was the dog doing?”
“It was acting in a very dog-like manner.”
“Acting as in Jim Carrey in Man on the Moon or Dominique Pinon in Delicatessen?”
“Neither. It was acting like a dog in the street.”
“So it wasn’t really acting at all, was it? It is a dog and so when it performs as a dog it’s a way of life, a canine way, and not merely acting, like Jim Carrey in Man on the Moon or Dominique Pinon in Delicatessen. Am I correct?”
“You are correct.”
“So what was it doing exactly?”
“It was barking and growling and showing off its teeth and long red tongue.”
“In a dog-like manner?”
“Yes.”
“What else was it doing?”
“It was breaking wind silently and licking its testicles.”
“Is this what dogs do?”
“Apparently so.”
“Describe the dog.”
“It was black with ears pointing upwards.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all I recollect. I’m no dog expert as you know.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well you do now.”
“Did you see any other dogs?”
“No.”
“Did anyone see you see the dog?”
“I know only the things that I see myself and not what others see.”
“Did you say anything to the dog?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I said Hello dog.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because I didn’t know the dog’s name.”
“Did the dog answer you?”
“Elaborate.”
“Did the dog respond to your greeting in any way at all?”
“Yes.”
“The dog spoke to you?”
“Don’t be a fool.”
“What did the dog do then?”
“It tore off my arm.”
“Wow! No kidding!”
“No kidding.”
“Prove it.”
My wife reached over and produced her severed arm. I gazed at the stump section, which was filled with caked reddish-black blood and crusty dabs of spittle, gleaming as if in a butcher shop window.
“Ohmygod!” I cried.
At once I began to ejaculate, my penis pumping away inside my wife, and I let out a loud hissing sound followed by an unearthly climactic shriek. I ceased thrusting and allowed the orgasm to subside, my breathing loud and labored, and then I pulled out and whipped off the condom, which I carried into the bathroom. I dropped the sagging bag of sperm into the pan and flushed it away, then washed my hands and face in the sink. I padded back into the bedroom deeply satisfied.
“How was it for you?” I asked my wife.
“The best yet,” she replied.
She then began to bark and growl and show off her teeth and long red tongue, as I broke wind silently and licked my testicles.