Conversations can take a bizarre turn when three or four lads get together in a hospitable pub contemplating an unbroken evening of nonsense ahead.
I saw a very strange thing last week, said the Infant Jesus.
What?
The new dog, he said. We were looking out the kitchen window, and the dog was having a shit in the garden.
As they tend to do, I nodded.
Yes, he said, but they don't all shit plastic bags.
Excuse me?
The fuckin dog was shitting a plastic bag, but he wasn't making a good job of it.
How do you mean?
Well he was doing that dog thing, with his hind legs over his ears dragging his arse on the ground.
Jesus, Infant Jesus, that's awful.
Yeah, he said. In the end, the Missus put on rubber gloves and sort of —
Yeah?
Sort of helped him.
She pulled it?
Yep.
Oh Christ! And?
Well, it was a full-sized supermarket plastic bag. With handles.
Fuck, I said. Was it full of groceries?
Don't be ridiculous, he snapped.
Sorry, I said. It's just that I saw a thing on Discovery channel about a dog shitting an entire fridge, complete with beer and frozen pizzas.
I had a dog with a mallet up his arse, said Ned.
Another time, continued the Infant Jesus, we caught him shitting a sock.
A sock? I hope you washed it before you wore it again.
It belonged to the child. He didn't know the difference.
Did you ever pull anything else out of a dog's arse? asked Bongo, who'd been quiet, taking it all in.
I once pulled a small dog out of a dog's arse, offered Seánie. And an even smaller dog out of the second dog's arse. But that was a special case. They were Russian nesting dogs.
Bock, you are truly a sick puppy.
You're too kind.
Ahhh, I remember those plastic bag and rubber glove days with fondness.. my spaniel,[ lets call him BINGO so as not to protect the guilty ], graduated from tesco plastic bags to chewing and digesting [ of sorts ] logs for the fire.. were not talking twigs here, more like the size of a domestic moggy.. i kid you not, the next day we will invariably be treated to tapered fire briquettes.. honestly, i could not make this [shit ] up…i mean, really, whats wrong with a beef and pasta dinner, a nylon bone and a rubber ball?.. if our wives or girlfriends started shiting old copies of hello magazine or last seasons underware we would go off the bloody rails.. please, bring on the dog whisperer… in closing Bock, how about a spot on distructive dog behaviour, thats got to be a rich one…
How's Satan ?
Shitting fire
Now this is FUNNY . I have not laughed so much in years. The word picture painted is brilliant. Imagine using the dog to bring home the shopping.! My rib’s still hurt.
Good stuff!
quite funny! I've only had the wonderful experience of green and purple crayon poo…
Bock If we could get a genetic cross between Satan, the Infant Jesus Bowler and HisGirlFridays pooch. Give it a ream of paper and it could write some very nasty letters to the Golden Circle with its arse. No court would convict us. It might need a little training .