Tuesday, June 23, 2009

My Fair Princess Part III

Pocket was sitting on the couch looking out the bay windows at nothing in particular and nervously growling at the leaves stirred by the slight breeze.

I came down the stairs, looking spectacular, wearing one of Bauser’s Tanner Brigade bandanas and a beautiful bow in my hair. Pocket looked at me and groaned. “Oh what is your problem?” I asked her.

“I can’t believe you are escorting Princess to Magoo’s party,” Pocket said. “Our friends will never bark at us again.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Our friends will hold us in an even higher esteem when they see how I have transformed her.”

“And you can put a bill on a frog but that don’t make it quack,” Pocket said jumping off the couch and running upstairs while I wondered why Bill would want to sit on a frog.

We left the house together. Princess was being taken there in her chariot, which Pocket said would go over like a fart under a blanket on a muggy July night. We saw the sinister Chihuahua sitting in her window, and we both stopped and shook our rumps at her as she howled in protest.

We arrived at the party and we both gave Magoo a kiss and a pair of peanut filled kongs which the birthday pup was very thankful for. Hobo Hudson sauntered up to us and asked: “Hey Monster, rumor is that you’ve invited Princess to the party.”

“That’s right Hobo, but not the Princess you remember, a new Princess, one who will fit in fine with all us regular pups.” My thoughts were interrupted as Princess’ trumpeters began to play her fanfare.

“Obviously Foley, once again you have worked your magic,” an overly sarcastic Hobo said. I ignored his witless gibe and hurried over to Princess who was standing, one paw up, tail held high, waiting to be escorted into the gala.

“Princess, what did I tell you about the trumpets?” I asked.

“It’s the only way I know when to get out of the chariot,” she said. “If the music doesn’t play I just sit there like a turd at the bottom of a bowl.”

“Well Foley Monster you have worked wonders with her vocabulary,” Zoe Boe said. I smiled at her and began escorting Princess through the room. My strategy was to spend as little time as possible with each individual dog, then move on before Princess’ new found charm wore off.

Then I saw her, charging across the dance floor, Mrs. Sophie Bub. “Princess did you see the ice sculpture of Teddy Earnest?” I asked trying to steer her in the opposite direction, but it was too late. Sophie pounced on her. “I want to know exactly why you tossed my poor husband Tanner Bub out of the kingdom just when he got sick. What kind of dog are you?”

I took in such a deep breath I was afraid I would give myself the snorts. We had practiced this for days, the measured, sincerely sorry response, but now, faced with an angry Mrs. Bub, would Princess remember her teachings?

“I have reconsidered my decision concerning Tanner and I think it is possible I may have acted hastily,” Princess said. I smiled, all my work coming to fruition. “In fact I can say with certainty that is was wrung.”

“There Sophie she said she was wrong,” I said leading her away.

“Actually Foley,” that buttinski Hobo said, “she said she was wrung.”

“No Hobo,” I said unable to hide the impatience in my voice, “she said she was wrong.”

“I think it was wrung,” Pocket said grinning.

“Me, too!” Sophie said. “She said wrung!”

“Wrong, wrung, what’s the difference!” I said pulling her away. “She said she was something that began with a w, ended with a g, had an r and an n in it and a vowel in the middle, let’s just move on,” I said pulling Princess but she was stubbornly holding her ground.

“So Hudson,” she said as I muttered an “aw geeze!” “I read your fairy tale, very entertaining, but not based in reality at all. And certainly not something apropreate fir a dig rescue sight.”

“Apropreate fir a dig rescue sight?” Hobo laughed. “I definitely think it was ‘Apropreate fir a dig rescue sight,’ I think the only thing not ‘apropreate fir a dig rescue sight is you!”

“Hey Hobo!” I whispered, “there’s half a steak in it for you if you back off.”

But Hobo was the least of my problems when I saw Erin making a bee line for us. “Have you adopted any of my suggestions?” she asked.

“Such as?” Princess responded.

“Not only doing updates for your paying memberships but updating the site for non paying customers too. Give away something for free,” she said.

“Give away something for free?” Princess laughed. “Somewons made too many tripz to the punch boal!”

I thought things couldn’t get worse. And then they got worse. Crossing the floor, in a beautiful dress and matching hat was Hattie Mae. “You no good no goodnick!” Hattie Mae said to her.

“Hattie Mae!” Princess laughed. “Ew am I supissed tu bee mud? Hah! I’m nut afrud of you, or any of ewe, I’m glud you’re off my sight and I the onely the thit makes me wush ewe were is so I can dilute you all over……..”

Suddenly the ice sculpture of Teddy Earnest tipped over and landed on Princess and all the water that had melted off of Teddy went on her and her paper became saturated. “I’m multing, I’m multing!” she cried as she sunk into the floor.

We turned to look where the statue had been and Pocket stood triumphantly. The Brigade all stood and cheered my little sister, and after a few moments of jealousy, so did I.

“Do you think she’s gone for good?” Baarney asked.

“The Princesses of the world never go away,” Hobo said. “Now let’s find Pocket her steak.”


Pocket and I were back on our balcony, Pocket chewing on her steak, me sitting in my chair, looking on jealously, barking over and over “give me some steak, give me some steak, give me some steak!”

“You know Foley,” she said chewing, “you did come close, and it was a bit unfair of me to pick Princess.”

“Yeah, I got screwed, give me some steak, give me some steak.”

“Maybe we could make another bet,” Pocket said, clearly not going to give me any steak.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well Foley, you’re real talent is with humans, I mean I think you could make any woman into a wonderful, tender loving Mom.”

“I can. I can. If I do will you give me some steak!”

“I will, if you can change this woman, but if you can’t, I get another steak!” Pocket said.

“I can, I can, any woman, now give me some steak.”

“In one moment,” Pocket said. She then picked up cell paw and spoke into it. “Can you send up Mrs. Gosselin please?” she asked.

I sat back in my chair. I was never going to get steak.

5 comments:

  1. Oh My LMAO!! “I’m multing, I’m multing!” Priceless!! Good job, Foley.

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  2. Wow, Foley. For a minute there, I really thought you would win your steak. I guess it's too much to expect any dog to be able to change an evil dog like Princess.
    I've got an idea! Now that she's all multed, why don't you shovel her up into several FedEx boxes and send pieces to your friends in different parts of the country. I'd love to have a piece. I'll bet she'd make excellent cat liter. That's about all she's good for.

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  3. Excellent, You never disappoint!

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  4. BOL LMAO!!! Brilliant! Good luck with that mom Foley!

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  5. This is better than a movie ! I love it.
    BTW....we sent you an email at your gmail account.

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