Originally Posted by Ultra Peanut
(Post 5503048)
A man gets home from his work at the stock exchange. He lives alone except for a medium sized retriever named Roger. His life is shallow and unfulfilling. His relationships last for only days, his family has fallen out of touch, and he is developing a sizable gut. He has also been drinking more than usual. Every day he comes home and looks into his liquor cabinet, seeing the bottles a little emptier then they were the day before, and his memory of how they were drained is always clouded and indistinct.
As the man walks into the door of his small, lonely, suburban house; he sighs and places his briefcase onto the couch. Roger wags his tail, and trots over to greet him. The man pats the dog with a lack of conviction. The dog looks at his master as he slowly removes his Cambridge shirt, revealing his sagging body, and tired frame. The dog with his tail still wagging sits down and waits expectantly to be fed. After the man checks his messages (only one, from a woman to cancel a date), and looks at the news on the TV (just more of the same boring shit, except with different names), he microwaves Roger a can Alpo, and pours himself a beer. "Something for the dog, something for the master," he thinks in a mocking tone inside of his head. After the beer, he goes back to the fridge, then the cabinet; the evening is well underway.
The night has worn on. The TV plays a hollow sounding female voice in the throes of faking an orgasm. The man watches non-affected; porn lost its luster some time ago. "Shit," he thinks to himself, "life lost its luster some time ago." He flips off the TV, silencing the almost comical grunts coming from it. He knocks over an empty shot glass, and it hits the floor with a dulled thud. Roger looks up, his canine eyes alert, and his ears perked. Roger has been noticing a change in his master. The man has been slowing down and becoming heavy with the stench of the liquid he drinks lately. Roger has been trying to avoid him as much as possible, and the man seems not to mind much.
The man has been thinking about his life lately (even before tonight), and as he looks over at the golden furred animal sitting at the far end of the room he begins to think a bit differently.
"That dog could do the same ****ing thing I do day in and day out. I'm doing nothing to relate myself to being human. Everything that makes me a step above that damn beast has been robbed from my life! I'm nothing but a damn machine!"
Roger looks at his master, with distrust. Something has changed in the man-thing's demeanor. The man gets up off the couch, and stalks toward his bedroom. Roger shies away and watches him carefully. The man stands in his bedroom, searching with a passion through his chest drawers. He finds what he is looking for; Roger's spare collar. He walks back out into the living room, stumbling as the alcohol begins to take a real hold on his brain. Roger goes slowly to sniff his hand, trying to assure the man that he is the one in charge; that Roger poses no threat. The man grabs Roger, and drags him into his room. Roger lets out a scared yelp, and tries to resist. The man, however, succeeds, dragging the dog to the front of his closet. Throwing clothes about in a helter skelter manner, he finally finds what he wants.
A $700 business suit lay in his hands, its expensive fabric folded in his grasp. He rips it off of its hanger, disregarding its condition. A year ago he would have regarded the suit as a symbol of power, but now he holds both the collar and the suit in the same manner. After the suit is off of its hanger he grabs the terrified dog again, forcing the suit onto it as best he can. The dog bites, scratches, and growls, trying to get out of the smooth, perfumed prison. The man overpowers him, however, and the dog is stuck, writhing, inside of the clothing. The man, satisfied with what he has done, strips down out of his own soiled clothing, throwing it aside without regard. He clamps the hard collar onto his own neck. Looking down at the dog before him he howls, a sound both pitiable and contemptible. His insane howl turns to laughter as he looks down at the absurd sight of the dog in human clothing before him.
"HAHAHAHAHA," his stretched and crazed voice sounds into the darkness, "You're the man now, dog!"
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