The following post is rated PG due to cartoon violence, a talking dog, rude language, and a drug reference. Proceed with caution.
Barkley’s a simple fellow, being a dog and all, and mostly quiet, except for periodic outbursts of insane barking. He likes to go walking with me over at Warfield and peeing everywhere. He does the peeing, I just walk.
But today something terrible happened. You see right now, both of us notice something is amiss in the distance.
As we get closer, it becomes more clear.
Finally Barkley can’t take it anymore. He says to me, “Jack, where’s the picnic bench?”
I say, “Well, it should be right here.”
“But, Jack,” he says. “It’s not. How am I going to pee on the picnic bench if it’s not here to pee on?”
Which is a good question of the philosophical sort I often pose to myself late at night when having trouble getting to sleep.
Well, it doesn’t take a lot of detective work, at least for a moderately aware human, to unravel the mystery.
There’s the beer in the water, you see. And there’s the other beer, and the crushed pack of Newports, and what appears to be a four-foot long discarded bong.
And of course, there’s this, which is what I would call incontrovertible evidence.
Barkley says, “Jack, the picnic table’s in the water.”
I say, “I see that, Barkley.”
Barkley says, “How can that be?”
I say, “How can it not be?”
Barkley says, “Huh?”
I say, “Someone put it there, Barkley.”
Barkley says, “Who, Jack? Who would do such a terrible thing to a picnic bench?”
I say, “Assholes, Barkley. Probably more than one of ‘em.”
Barkley says, “Humans suck, Jack. No offense.”
“No offense taken, my friend.”
He’s been depressed ever since.