His name is, get this; "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Who names their dog something that long. It has punctuation and can be diagrammed. Honestly I find it absurd to say the least, but he's an absurd creature of which I've found myself in close company for quite some time. I am glad Mom only calls him Inigo rather than prattle on so with a long list of useless words. It's all rather boring.
"Prepare To Die" my butt. If Beetle continues to pull the hair from my hindquarters he should spend time preparing to meet his maker by way of Jordan's runt cat Bug. Be warned Inigo, I'd have no problem luring you into the bathroom with some promised treat only to shut you in with her. If you wore pants you'd pee them and I would laugh at your suffering. What she lacks in brains she makes up for in gratuitous violence and I know you fear her. You fear the house she lives in, the floor she walks on as well as the chair from which she watches you. Even when she's not there. The very promise of Bug is enough to frighten you. And Inigo- I promise Bug!
Oh bother, I've digressed into a fantasy driven diatribe of which has sullied my good nature. I must make a note to forgive myself for my digressions. It's just that I don't suffer fools gladly and Inigo is most assuredly a fool. Speaking of which, here comes Mom. She may have food judging by the desperate and frothy nature of Dung Bug. i should follow. I may just receive a little something. I wonder from which hand she'll feed me. It smells like cheese. I like cheese.
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