Poodle Popping
By Matthew Green
Ron Baker walked into the dog pound reception and approached the desk.
"Hey there," he said, tipping his hat to the poundee.
The poundee, who’d had quite enough of Ron’s hat tipping said: "You’ll be wanting to take home your usual Poodle, will you Ron?"
"No thanks, I’ll eat it here," Ron guffawed and jabbed the poundee with his elbow, breaking a few of his ribs and puncturing a lung in the process.
The poundee had been through this rigmarole too many times and was currently plotting his suicide note in his head.
"Follow me," he said, rising from his chair and ghosting through to the kennel area. Ron followed suit, although he didn’t so much ghost as lumber, kicking over a few poop bins as he went.
The poundee led him along the line of cages, all of which contained a separate raggedy, dog-eared specimen of er… dog. After a few minutes of attempted ghosting (which actually turned out to be lumbering) Ron spied exactly what he was looking for. It had white fur. It had a pom-pom tail. It had a pink bow tied into the fur on it’s head. It had eyes which said "I have absolutely no dignity left". It was a Poodle. Ron named it Howard and carried it home.
Upon entering the house of Ron the first thing anyone notices is the unbelievable stench. It is the stench of Poodle Piddle (and other nasty canine related soilings). This was because Ron’s house was residence to many Poodles, all of which were liberated from their early death at the hands of the ruthless poundee.
Ron placed Howard on the floor and led the many Poodles into the kitchen (as well as Robert, who was a Labrador and kept meaning to mention something, but he hadn’t as yet found an opportune moment in which to do it). He opened the door to the microwave, and all the Poodles began to cower, apart from Howard, who didn’t yet comprehend what was transpiring here.
"John the Poodle," said Ron, in tones which communicated great glee, "it’s your turn!"
John the Poodle turned to run, but he was not fast enough, for Ron caught him and thrust the struggling form of John into the microwave oven, closing the door behind him.
Ron snickered devilishly to himself as he set the microwave to full power, and hit the start button.
Poor John the Poodle, only one year old, stuffed into a microwave, where in less than ten seconds his insides were no longer distinguishable from his outsides (if you know what I mean). Ron laughed with pure ecstasy (the dog had exploded, that’s why his insides couldn’t be distinguished from his outsides).
Before continuing, perhaps some clarification is required. Ron was very fond of that ever popular pastime known as Poodle Popping, whereby a Poodle (and it has to be a Poodle, no other dog will quite do) is placed in a microwave and exploded. He did this all the time, at least twice a week, and in order to ensure that he never ran out of Poodles to pop, he visited the pound eight times in a month in order to procure more Poodles. And he always made them watch (the Poodles, that is).
Many weeks passed, and Howard was becoming increasingly convinced that his end was coming (Howards End… ha ha ha).
He would have been absolutely right too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he had always somehow ended up being the closest dog to the microwave while he was forced to witness the terrible atrocities this man was committing.
And we all no how microwave radiation affects Poodles who spend too much time in close proximity to its source, now don’t we? You don’t? Well here it is…
One night while he was asleep, dreaming of devouring Ron whole in one bite, Howard suddenly mutated into a half man half Poodle beast as a result of all the microwave radiation he’d been exposed to (so that’s what happens!). This mutation also caused him to become a genius sparky, and he set off with a little rewiring of the kitchen.
Ron woke up, hungry for his breakfast and lumbered down the stairs (having not yet mastered the art of ghosting yet), into the kitchen and flicked on the light switch.
Ron suddenly felt very warm very fast.
"Oh bugger," he muttered.
And he exploded, leaving his entrails all over the kitchen. Somebody was going to have to clean that up, probably Ron’s mum, lord rest her soul.
Howard admired his handiwork. While Ron and the Poodles (and Robert the Labrador) had slept, Howard the mutant Poodle had transformed the kitchen into a giant microwave, which was activated whenever the light switch was moved to the ‘on’ position.
Howard was happy that Ron was dead, and the irony of how he died was quite hilarious to him (of course, before last night he didn’t even know what humour was, so he’s obviously going to be a little twisted) but he found himself unsatisfied, wanting more somehow.
Howard entered the reception area of the orphanage and approached the orphanagee.
"I’d like a child please," he barked, in a manner which was not unlike the jargon of Scooby Doo.
"You wanna take home a child?" remarked the orphanagee, eyeing this blatant mockery of nature up and down.
"No thanks, I’ll eat it here," said Howard, elbowing the orphanagee in a jovial manner and enjoying a merry chuckle.
Of course, the orphanagee thought the dog creature was being serious and, producing a machete from under his desk which he’d just this morning purchased from the army surplus shop, he stabbed Howard to death.
Happy with a job well done (having rid the world of an obvious spawn of Satan and all) the orphanagee retired to his microwave, which had just binged, and took out a tuna and past bake which was to be his lunch.
However, he never got to eat it, as his pet Poodle chose that moment to mutate into a half man half Poodle creature, which then devoured him whole.
THE END