Last month Pocket and I got a strange tree mail. We both sniffed it for about ten minutes before we could decipher it. The message was from the Ning Weasels who wanted their money.
This was not a problem. Last year the Brigade raised so much money we had a nest egg. It's very important to understand the concept of the nest egg. I had it hidden in Pocket's Triangular Kitty Condo. Just before Christmas I went to check the nest egg and it wasn't there. I asked Pocket what happened and she said she lost it. I was livid. I wanted her to admit she lost it. Say it! Say it! Say "I lost the nest-egg." Go on, say it! Then Pocket looked behind the sofa and found it. I took it and kept it in the Leopard Vagina Condo (which is bigger on the inside then the outside.) I had no trouble finding the nest egg. It was in a safe behind the Van Gogh.
Pocket and I downloaded ourselves to the seedy part of town where the Ning Weasels hang out. "Hey pretty thing nice tail," a beaver lying near a dumpster whistled.
"Watch your mouth and keep you eyes off my tail!" I barked.
"Not looking at your tail," the beaver hissed.
"Oh thank you!" Pocket said walking towards the beaver. "I try to keep it clean, and I lick it all the time so it looks fluffy." I nipped her in the ear and told her not to fraternize with the vermin.
(Heavens, her tail is cropped and mine isn't. My tan and brown hair mixes together like a beautiful bouquet. I have a wonderful tail. Beavers know nothing about tails.)
I pushed Pocket into the Weasels hideout. They were playing pool, others dealing cards, one was playing Tom Waits on the piano. The air was filled with cigarillo smoke. The head weasel motioned for me to come to his table.
We sat down. Behind him two of the thickest weasels stood with their sharp paws folded in front of them. "You bringa the money?" the Weasel asked.
I put the nest egg on the table. He slowly counted it. "It's short," he said.
"Short?" I asked. "This is the same amount we paid last year."
"We went upa on the payments, we need a more of your a money."
"What do you need more money for?" I asked.
"It's a because of all the new features we added," one of the thick weasels behind the main weasel said.
"What new features?"
"If you go to our Main Page you can see how to upload pictures from you phonea right to your site. And we got that little box that you can say whatch'a doing and if you fill that out and got a Twitter Account it shows up there. Itsa nice feature."
"Oh that does sound nice," Pocket said before I nipped her.
"Look, we don't need none of that stuff, and we're a private group so we don't want to be linked up with Twitter and Facebook so why don't we just go back to out original settings and pay the original price."
"It no work that way you pay what we say you pay."
"Can I ask you a question?" Pocket, who was the last dog in the world I wanted to ask a question, asked. "Why do you all talk with Italian accents?"
"We watch the American TV and all the tough guys they talk the Italian."
"So you're not Italian?"
"No actually we are French, but no one gets scared when you talk French. Listen: We would like some more money from you, while you think it over can we give you some bread and a glass of wine?"
"You're right," Pocket said. "You're much better going with Italian."
The Weasel nodded and told us we had to take $50.00 more out of our nest egg. I sent Pocket to get it while I waited with the weasels. I knew I could handle myself with the weasels if things got violent and I knew Pocket would pee on all their Weasel Scooters.
While waiting I played cribbage with the weasels. A penny a point. After several hands I stopped trying to convince them that an eight and nine did not equal fifteen and neither did a Jack and a four and hoped Pocket would bring extra to cover my losses.
She returned with the extra $50.00, the weasel counted it, smiled, and said the Brigade was paid for another year. I asked him if the amount would change next year.
"It'sa always gonna go up. That's the price of doing business, dog," he said.
Pocket and I got up and left, ignoring the cat calls about our tails. Damn cats.
So I know we said that we were paid up for three years, but we only have $80.00 left in the nest egg and we cannot lose the nest egg. So come next spring we might be asking for donations again for the weasels. As always, we find a way to sponsor those who can't pay, and it still should be $5.00,
And you all will be amazed to see how a Brigade can make a nest egg grow.
This was not a problem. Last year the Brigade raised so much money we had a nest egg. It's very important to understand the concept of the nest egg. I had it hidden in Pocket's Triangular Kitty Condo. Just before Christmas I went to check the nest egg and it wasn't there. I asked Pocket what happened and she said she lost it. I was livid. I wanted her to admit she lost it. Say it! Say it! Say "I lost the nest-egg." Go on, say it! Then Pocket looked behind the sofa and found it. I took it and kept it in the Leopard Vagina Condo (which is bigger on the inside then the outside.) I had no trouble finding the nest egg. It was in a safe behind the Van Gogh.
Pocket and I downloaded ourselves to the seedy part of town where the Ning Weasels hang out. "Hey pretty thing nice tail," a beaver lying near a dumpster whistled.
"Watch your mouth and keep you eyes off my tail!" I barked.
"Not looking at your tail," the beaver hissed.
"Oh thank you!" Pocket said walking towards the beaver. "I try to keep it clean, and I lick it all the time so it looks fluffy." I nipped her in the ear and told her not to fraternize with the vermin.
(Heavens, her tail is cropped and mine isn't. My tan and brown hair mixes together like a beautiful bouquet. I have a wonderful tail. Beavers know nothing about tails.)
I pushed Pocket into the Weasels hideout. They were playing pool, others dealing cards, one was playing Tom Waits on the piano. The air was filled with cigarillo smoke. The head weasel motioned for me to come to his table.
We sat down. Behind him two of the thickest weasels stood with their sharp paws folded in front of them. "You bringa the money?" the Weasel asked.
I put the nest egg on the table. He slowly counted it. "It's short," he said.
"Short?" I asked. "This is the same amount we paid last year."
"We went upa on the payments, we need a more of your a money."
"What do you need more money for?" I asked.
"It's a because of all the new features we added," one of the thick weasels behind the main weasel said.
"What new features?"
"If you go to our Main Page you can see how to upload pictures from you phonea right to your site. And we got that little box that you can say whatch'a doing and if you fill that out and got a Twitter Account it shows up there. Itsa nice feature."
"Oh that does sound nice," Pocket said before I nipped her.
"Look, we don't need none of that stuff, and we're a private group so we don't want to be linked up with Twitter and Facebook so why don't we just go back to out original settings and pay the original price."
"It no work that way you pay what we say you pay."
"Can I ask you a question?" Pocket, who was the last dog in the world I wanted to ask a question, asked. "Why do you all talk with Italian accents?"
"We watch the American TV and all the tough guys they talk the Italian."
"So you're not Italian?"
"No actually we are French, but no one gets scared when you talk French. Listen: We would like some more money from you, while you think it over can we give you some bread and a glass of wine?"
"You're right," Pocket said. "You're much better going with Italian."
The Weasel nodded and told us we had to take $50.00 more out of our nest egg. I sent Pocket to get it while I waited with the weasels. I knew I could handle myself with the weasels if things got violent and I knew Pocket would pee on all their Weasel Scooters.
While waiting I played cribbage with the weasels. A penny a point. After several hands I stopped trying to convince them that an eight and nine did not equal fifteen and neither did a Jack and a four and hoped Pocket would bring extra to cover my losses.
She returned with the extra $50.00, the weasel counted it, smiled, and said the Brigade was paid for another year. I asked him if the amount would change next year.
"It'sa always gonna go up. That's the price of doing business, dog," he said.
Pocket and I got up and left, ignoring the cat calls about our tails. Damn cats.
So I know we said that we were paid up for three years, but we only have $80.00 left in the nest egg and we cannot lose the nest egg. So come next spring we might be asking for donations again for the weasels. As always, we find a way to sponsor those who can't pay, and it still should be $5.00,
And you all will be amazed to see how a Brigade can make a nest egg grow.
hope every thing works out
ReplyDeleteBenny & Lily