Food was scarce in the Wasteland. To my right

Food was scarce in the Wasteland. To my right sat my dog, and to my left sat my father. My eyes darted between them hungrily, and I knew that I had to make a choice.

My dog got to Dad 1st, &, while chewing, warned me with a look not to DREAM of eating said dog. So with my satellite phone I ordered from a pizzeria that delivers anywhere on Earth

I ordered from Lou Malnatis a large deep dish pizza with spinach, mushroom, onion and anchovies on the side. My dog liked anchovies, for some reason. I couldn't stand anchovies.

But, hey, if your pet wants anchovies, what's a dog owner to do? Talk about dawg breath though! If Tunabiscuit licked you before a date

expect to be followed down the block by a pack of wild dogs that will cover you in slobbery kisses and want to be your new BFFs. Tunabiscuit will hound you for more treats

below the trousers if you know what I mean. Tunabiscuit was raised by a prostitute that specialized in tug jobs. Tunabiscuit was a dog, yes that's true but she was also an a

mphibian. When Tunabiscuit was not handing out tug jobs Willie nillie, she was croaking like a toad near the local pond. The frogs didn't mind the dog's company, but were annoyed

her steaming piles of conformity she left all over the yard. The frogs were the Avant-garde form of an alien species from around the Frog star in the constellation of La Rana. They

appreciated her "art" installations, but their reptilian (okay technically amphibian, but you get my drift) brains were hardly able to grasp abstract ideas. But they knew poop when

they saw it, and it was poop. But was it art? The amphibians, who pissed in hands from pure anxiety, decided they weren’t art critics, so they hopped to the road and got squashed.