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Thursday, April 30, 2015


   I used to hang out with this kid named Tony in school. We didnt live very far from one another but his house was a bit closer to the main street of town than mine, and so after school we'd drop our bags there and head off to skate in front of the shops or swim next to the pier.
   We'd sit around the house for a little while, to have a cordial or a snack. His mother was often home and she seemed happy to feed us both. (An interesting side note: The first boobs I ever saw were Tony's mum's. She was an attractive lady. I dropped around there to see what Tony was up to one day and, fresh from the shower, she answered the door in a nothing but a saturated white t-shirt. I was 10 and it was another 5 years before I saw my next boob.)
   Anyway, one day when we dropped by Tony's house there were a couple of contractors there with his mum. They were there to check out the roof because, according to Tony, there was a water leak dripping into his room, right over his bed.
   Ignoring the constant barking of Tony's grumpy dog, Snikers, the contractors went up into the roof but couldnt find any evidence of a leak. 
   The next day, Tony complained about the leak again, saying his pillow was all damp and smelled mouldy because of it, and this went on for some time.
   Eventually, one day, when we dropped by the house, Tony ran straight to the bathroom and I decided to go into his bedroom to have a look at his new collection of He-man toys. His uncle, who worked at Mattel, often showered whole collections of toys on his nephew and with the he-man toys came the set of Magic Sand and a fish tank. 
   So I walked down the hallway and, as I got nearer to Tony's room, I could hear a sort of fast panting noise and a sound like keys jingling in a pocket. Curious, I ventured into the room and there, on Tony's bed, his pillow clasped between his legs, hind quarters pounding rhythmically, was Snikers.
   Tony's dog was having rough, nasty sex with Tony's pillow. There was no leak in the roof, no water dripping from above and making the pillow smell mouldy. There was only a pillow, a dog, some canine sperm and whatever canine sperm smells like as it dries or ages poorly. 
   Horrified by the implications of this, I couldn't even laugh...for a few seconds. Tony was obviously scarred by the fact that he'd been burrying his face in a mutt's cumrag every night for weeks, and Snikers was forever more barred from bedrooms, but the one thing that I walked away with was the look in Snikers' face when I busted him. You might have expected the dog to look shocked, frightened, worried, but Snikers looked pleased, proud and eager. Almost like he was thinking , "Well hello there. Don't go anywhere. You're next."

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