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Doggy humor: A doggy fable—part 3
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Hobo Hudson
By Hobo Hudson. Her Royal Highness lay very still on the table as her dad, the Geek, carefully touched up the paint that had bled during all her crying. When the paint had dried, he gently picked her up and sat her in his lap.
“There, there, little one. You’re as good as new again, and I’ve even used waterproof paint so it can’t happen again. You are ready to go back to your kingdom,” he said as he gently stroked her head.
“But daddy, won’t all the dogs harass me and hurt my feelings again?” she asked.
“No, my little princess,” he said. “We won the lawsuit. They have no right to object to your rules any more. You can just go ahead and do anything you want.”
Her Highness nestled deeper in her daddy’s lap, and her eyes began to fill with tears.
“I think some of my subjects aren’t as loyal to me as I had thought they were,” she said, sniffling. “My spies have reported some dogs have joined a new playground and are making nasty comments about me. Why, I’m about to break out crying again.”
Her dad quickly lifted her from his lap and held her at arm’s length.
“No, no. Don’t start crying again. We are going to avenge the disrespect your subjects are showing toward you and teach them a lesson. Make a list of whom you think is a turncoat, and I’ll figure out a way to spank them and put them down.”
Encouraged by her daddy’s initiative, her Highness regained her confidence and brooded over the insurmountable task at hand. Taking pencil and paper, she dove into the work, but the sheet of paper remained blank. She strained to recall any names of her subjects in her kingdom, scratching her head furiously. Finally, she scribbled down a list of ten names and handed it proudly to her daddy.
After studying the names on the list, the Geek became lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he exclaimed, “Eureka. I know what we’ll do, my princess. There is a very popular dog in your kingdom who likes to produce drawings. I’ll put a trap on his page so that if any of these dogs try to leave a comment, we’ll be able to see where he goes next.”
Satisfied with her daddy’s plot, her Highness trotted back to her throne, where she resumed her favorite activity of snooping through her subjects’ private mail. While she concentrated on censoring each word communicated from friend to friend, one of her subjects scurried in with an invitation delivered on a silver tray.
Interrupting her Highness pastime, he genuflected deeply while emitting a few discreet yaps before he presented the tray to her Highness. Stretching out one paw, she grabbed the envelope embossed with the words: To My Fair Princess and opened it.
“Huum,” she murmured. “This is a personal invitation from the upstarts. The two little sisters are inviting me for tomorrow to spend a week in their tiny castle.”
Cocking her head from side to side, her Highness said to herself, “This might be amusing. After all, they had the nerve to sue me. It will be a great opportunity to rub their little noses in my power.”
The next morning, her Highness barked for her litter carriers. They swiftly bore her to the two little sisters’ castle, and she arrived just in time for breakfast. Approaching the entryway, a horrible smell of burned muffins assaulted her nose. Even though she couldn’t care less about food, being a paper dog, she commented snidely, “Pucket berntt tha miffins” [sic] and sat down to watch her hostesses eat.
After the two little sisters had choked down breakfast, the older sister attempted to give her Highness lessons in English and public relations. Her Highness resisted at first, but then put all her might into the challenge. She tried to repeat over and over simple English words the older sister spelled out and tried to follow the tutoring of small pleasantries among dogs.
Finally, the older sister succeeded in teaching her Highness to bark in perfect English and show respect to her subjects, accepting their opinions. Thrilled with her accomplishment, she decided to invite her Highness to attend a large and important party with her with the intent to show off her trainee.
“This will be the acid test,” she said to her sister. “If her Highness can keep her cool during the party tonight, she’ll be a changed dog, and all her subjects will rejoice.”
However, this was not to be. As soon as the two little sisters and her Highness arrived at the party, the exiled subjects of her Highness’s kingdom came charging forward from all corners. They surrounded her Highness, barking accusations and nasty comments. Unable to defend herself and tormented beyond endurance, her Highness reverted to her old style of bark and manner, losing all her hard learned skills.
Just as her Highness started again to insult her former subjects and force her opinion on them, a large ice sculpture standing next to her began melting and toppled over onto her.
“Help, help me,” she cried. “I’m multing” [sic].
Nobody came to her rescue. Instead, her former subjects watched her slowly dissolve, laughing and dancing. One little dog even suggested they shovel her up and use her for cat litter.
Before the cheering crowd had time to mess about with her Highness’s residue, her retainers, gawking in horror at what was left of their princess, hastily scooped her up and carried her back to her kingdom.
Upon arriving at her Highness’s castle with a gooey bucketful of liquid, her litter bearers reported to the princess’s daddy, the Geek.
“Her Highness has had an awful accident,” they said. “Her remains are in the bucket. What shall we do?”
The Geek peered into the bucket and, shaking his head, he mumbled under his breath, “Unforchunitly [sic], this will cost money to repair, and no dog is worth spending money on.”
Then, aloud he said to the litter bearers, “Take her into the bathroom and flush her. Her usefulness to me is at an end.”
Sorrowfully, the litter bearers complied and as they were flushing, they heard a faint voice protesting, “No, no, not the sewer. I was a faithful dog and deserve better than this. Does my daddy hate all dogs?”
Her wail slowly faded as the water cascaded down the drain.
The end
Alas, my friends, my little fable is at an end. If you should happen to pass the castle and peek in the window, you will find the throne is now empty and little puppies are camping in the courtyard and trembling with fright as the older dogs tell scary stories around their campfire about the wicked old paper dog who once lived in the castle.
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