Seriously, I’m done. Ever since you carelessly reversed that shitcan Honda Civic over my legs, my life has stunk worse than the crap I took after devouring that burrito I found in the garbage. By the way, it was way tastier than the tofu and lentil salad you keep feeding me. Newsflash whore! I’m not a fucking vegetarian. So lets see, you’ve crippled me, you give me food that makes my balls the most delicious things I taste all day and, and oh yeh, you parade me around in this ridiculous wheelbarrow. Does this make you feel better for crushing my legs and spirit? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this thing is? I look like a half-dog-half-Segway freak show. The other dogs at the park won’t come near me. They just stare from a distance with their tails tucked between their trembling legs. Shit, even that horny, three-legged French bulldog thinks I’m strange—and I’ve seen that weirdo humping trash cans. And do you realize how goddamn heavy this thing is? You try walking around with a refrigerator stuck to your ass, and then you’ll know how I feel every day of my joyless life. Of course you didn’t stop at the wheelbarrow did you? No. You had to trick it out with bright red wheels that scream, “check out the queer!” I swear to God, if I were half the dog I was two years ago I’d bite a chunk of your jugular out. And what’s with the license plate? “2 Fast 4U”? Is that supposed to be funny? I couldn’t outrun a disabled turtle and you know it you cruel bitch! So that’s it. Tonight when you finally take this hulking contraption off me and relax to your favorite cultural program, “I’m A Celebrity Get Me Outta Here”, I’m gone. I’m dragging these lifeless fur sticks into traffic. I’ll wait for the biggest Mack truck to come barreling down the road and take me to paradise. And I’ll make sure I get the job done too because I’ll be damned if I let you drag my pulverized body around on some friggin skateboard.
