I am exhausted.
Last night, Mitch called in a panic. It seems that his toy poodle, Abercrombie, had escaped his apartment by jumping from the balcony into a tree. Mitch has been my imaginary friend for years and I felt obligated to help him search for Abercrombie, even though it irritates me to no end that he named his dog with the expectation that everyone would refer to them as "Abercrombie & Mitch"....
I went right over and realized fairly quickly that Mitch was losing it. I gave him some oxycontin and slapped him around a little, until he stopped crying. He showed me the balcony and the tree. I spotted some curly white fur on a branch and wanted to get a closer look. I crawled out onto the branch, that's when I spotted a couple of squirrels picking their teeth. No, I thought. Squirrels don't eat tiny poodles, do they? I decided to ask if they had seen what became of Abercrombie, a trick I had learned watching The Powerpuff Girls. A surly, fat squirrel named Brando came forward and said: "We don't know nothing 'bout no poodles, dig?" We locked eyes. It was a Mexican talking squirrel/human standoff, on the branch of an olive tree in Toluca Lake, one of the most intense moments of my life.
Then Brando lifted his tail and farted. I had to act quickly, I had heard within the squirrels fart the distinct, yet muffled "woof" of a toy poodle. I grabbed Brando and began to squeeze, not sure which end Abercrombie might come out. The other squirrels seemed genuinely shocked by this and one even fainted and fell out of the tree. After a breif struggle, Abercrombie popped out of Brando smelling of cashews and beer. I released the squirrel and he hobbled back to his friends. Abercrombie and I crawled back onto the balcony where I reunited him with Mitch.
I stayed over and the three of us made love until the sun came up, as we do occasionally. What are friends for, if you can't sodomize them while their dog licks your taint? Anyway, it was a happy ending for all. Now, I should really go smoke some crack.