Many Many Moons Ago...

Once upon a time, in a land, far, far away...in a land of great corruption, a vile and dangerous land...a land where sneakers were worth more than a human life...a land where people were killed over gold teeth...a land where scuffing a new shoe or getting a bad haircut was reason enough to kill, lived a man named Miguel. Miguel was born and raised in this unholy land, and as a citizen, he too picked up several bad habits. Miguel was not what one would call a model citizen, in fact, one may go so far as to say that Miguel was deplorable...even by the standards set in that unholy land. But Miguel was a survivor. He had learned the art of self preservation and mastered the skills of war. He learned those skills not in a classroom, but while on the receiving end of gunfire and surprise attacks. He had learned as he went, picking up a little here and a little there, fine tuning his skills and learning from his own mistakes. Until he too, was a skilled war veteran, who not only endured attacks, but initiated them as well.

On one such day as he and several of his guerilla fighters were preparing for an attack, they chose an armored personnel carrier that they thought would be just right for the job ==>

It was a white tank model number 1-9-6-5  code name Impala. Miguel had commandeered such vehicles before with great success. He thought that this particular one would be essential for the night's mission. Miguel went to "borrow" this car from an unsuspecting civilian who had no idea that there was even a war going on. It was a quiet war you see. Even with all of the casualties, gunfire and noise...this war had been going on so long that people just got used to it. They no longer heard the helicopters or police sirens. They no longer paid attention to the wailing of the ambulances...or the tumultuous noise all around them. Even the bright lights that flooded the neighborhood throughout the night were no match for the indifference. People not involved in the war just lived their lives and pretended that it didn't exist.

Miguel brought two things with him that day...his screwdriver and his balls...er, um...or perhaps that's three things-no matter, what's important is that the screwdriver was what was needed to commandeer that tank, and he didn't hesitate. But little did he know that this night was going to be full of surprises!

Bright blue lights flooded the rearview mirror. Miguel didn't know how or even when he had been spotted...but there they were. A high speed chase ensued. Miguel knew the neighborhood well, and decided that escaping on foot would be better than trying to lose the uniformed swine, for it was only a matter of time before they called in the ghetto bird and once that happened, the chances of getting away were slim at best. He did some yard hopping and managed to get away. He hid on a rooftop and watched as flashlights waved in the distance. Miguel giggled to himself and was quite pleased with the outcome, convinced that he was out of immediate danger...that is until Miguel heard the noises of Swine commanding and giving orders to a rather large German Shepherd.

Miguel's balls shriveled up and sought comfort deep inside his body, for he knew that this beast was more clever than all of the swine put together! There was no escaping this beast...Miguel's scent was very traceable and it was only a matter of time before this beast found him on the rooftop. Miguel decided that he better keep moving, because his chances of getting away were decreasing as the seconds passed. He tried to jump off of the rooftop, but tripped on some garbage cans, making a huge ruckus. The dog began to bark in excitement. Whether the swine had unintentionally lost control of the beast or if the beast had been let go on purpose, Miguel will never know. What Miguel did know is that though he was swift and agile...the dog was much faster. It didn't take long for the beast to catch up to him. 

A struggle ensued on the ground. In the darkness, Miguel's screams were heard penetrating the silence as strong jaws bit down on his forearm. The pain though unbearable, was also highly motivating...and Miguel's instincts to survive made his balls, which had receded to a happier place, come out in his moment of despair. Miguel reached for his screwdriver and jabbed the beast with all his might. Now, both Miguel and the beast serenaded the streets of Los Angeles with their unique sounds. The beast's whimpers were more penetrating and high pitched, but they didn't completely drown out the soprano-like melodies emanating from Miguel's throat. What harmony these two voices made! It was almost magical. It took great effort and several adrenaline induced thrusts...but in the end, Miguel, though bleeding profusely...managed to say goodbye to the now motionless beast. The concert was over.

Miguel has nothing but respect for this beast. He hopes that this beast forgives him for aerating his beautiful fur coat. It was done out of instinct to survive...not due to any ill will towards the dog. Miguel knows that this dog is in doggie heaven now, resting and enjoying life, surrounded by thousands of freshly painted fire hydrants, and an endless supply of Milkbones. Rest in peace my friend, your memory lives on in my mind...your teeth marks still embedded in my skin...I'll never forget you.