HB: What are we going to write about today, pansy?
SPAL: (He shrugs) Don’t know, yet.
HB: How come?
SPAL: I’m not feeling inspired.
HB: Why not?
SPAL: It’s been a busy week. I’m kind of tired. Daddy-o says it’s my turn to get shaved. Tomorrow mummsy is planning to put me in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture. And, the new fur person next door is way too young for me and tea cup sized. I’ll never have a girlfriend no matter how many times I mark territories for one.
HB: Yup. She’s more my size with fluffy black fur. A little Yorkie-poo. I think her and me could make pretty furry babies. Especially since I’m a Malti-poo. She and I could make a new breed of fur people.
SPAL: You’re still too old for her. She’s a baby. Only twelve weeks old. What are you? A pervert? (He pauses) You better not hump her.
HB: I didn’t the other day. All I did was sniff her. She smelled like flowers and treats.
SPAL: I’m just saying don’t hump her. You might break her for one. And her parents might have you arrested and your face’ll be posted all over the sex offender’s registry.
HB: Who says?
SPAL: You better listen to me. I know these things. I watch the evening news with daddy-o while your chasing your ball through the house.
HB: Yeah, that’s probably why you don’t have a girlfriend. What good has the evening news done for you? It’s all propaganda. You can’t believe everything you hear on television. Mummsy says so.
SPAL: No. That’s what she says about the monkeys in the White House.
HB: There’s monkey’s in the White House? Really?
SPAL: Yup. Mummsy says they wear suites and sometimes put on clown make-up and put on a televised circus show. All I know is…I better have my treats and kibble by August 2nd. They better not mess that up.
HB: What? They might take our treats and food away?
SPAL: (He shrugs) Maybe.
HB: What’s wrong with those people in the White House?
SPAL: I already told you. They’re not people. They’re monkeys in suites.