Lucy the Hammer, Squadron Soldier from "Rainbow Ranch"

 

Loki the Skull, Bodily Vessel for Harrison Gaines's Ghost in "Rainbow Ranch"

 

Brian Griffin from Family Guy vs. G-Rated Rabbit Humor

 

Rainbow Ranch, Prologue

Loki repeatedly slurped his canine tongue across Razor Ripley’s bony toes, half-expecting them to taste like they used to have meat on them. Even that was better tasting than the dried kibble in his metal bowl. What the brown and black Labrador really wanted was some scratches behind his ears and maybe a few rubs of his belly. Ripley certainly had the sharp nails on his fingers to achieve such a blissful massage.

But this was far from the night to be asking his master for love and affection. The skeletal necromancer’s mind was somewhere else, far away from the borders of Rainbow Ranch. The same thing could be said about the king sitting across from him at the chess table. The stone pieces hadn’t moved in what seemed like ages. These two lovers of doggies everywhere were growing old sitting in these wooden chairs. Then again, growing old explained the presence of most of the “clients” in this funeral home. Loki curled up against Razor Ripley’s sandaled feet to provide him with warmth, but it was his heart and soul that needed warmth the most.

“I’m growing impatient,” growled Ripley, gesturing with his skeletal fingers for King James Gaines to move one of his pieces.

“I’m sorry, Ripley. I can’t focus tonight.” King James squeezed his temples with his gauntlet-covered hand. “It’s hard to get anything done these days knowing my brother is in that coffin.” He jerked his thumb to the next room, the temporary resting place of his younger brother Harrison. He wiped the wetness from his eye and breathed a sigh.

“I understand where you’re coming from, my liege. But your brother made his decision a long time ago. He couldn’t let go of his obsession with revenge, even though our animal friends already did. He made them human-like, for god’s sake. It was never the mission of Rainbow Ranch to give these poor creatures human responsibilities. Harrison made a grave mistake. I’d say he has to live with it, but he’s clearly not doing a whole lot of living.”

“I know. Trust me, Ripley, I know. I just wish things could have been different. Maybe if I convinced him to seek help for his madness…Look…it doesn’t change the fact that I still miss him. He’s my brother. This is not the same man I grew up with. He was hurting.”

Razor Ripley placed his hand over King James’s and spoke in a much more sympathetic tone. “I miss Harrison too. But he has changed so much over the years that he’s hardly recognizable. It’s time to let his spirit go to the next world. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have the Shut Up Stupid Dogs primed and ready.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call them that, Ripley.”

Loki finally got his desired pettings upon sniffing Ripley’s robed crotch. But there was something off about his master’s strokes. They didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like true affection. Loki whined before stumbling off to the nearby wall and laying down in a donut circle.

Ripley continued. “I call them that, because that’s what they respond to. They don’t seem to mind.”

“I know, but it just feels…wrong.”

“If it pleases your majesty, I’ll ponder another name shortly. But for now, this is what my squadron of soldiers will be called. Do you wish to forfeit this game of chess?”

King James nodded and languidly knocked over the stone pieces before Ripley began disassembling the board. Loki’s eyes grew sore as he watched his masters in this much pain. The death of King Harrison hit them like a war hammer to the gut. Loki could hardly blame them for their slow zombie-like movements, but the Labrador still wanted his love and affection. He still wanted to be called a good boy. But in that regard, he was glad he was never made human-like by Harrison’s magic and called a Shut Up Stupid Dog by the bony wizard who was supposed to love him. Loki whined and whimpered as his masters shuffled out of the lobby, presumably back to the castle to deal with the logistics of Harrison’s funeral.

Loki could just lie there all night and let his puppy soul drift away into the universe. Maybe somewhere out in the stars, he could hear Harrison’s voice calling him over for the pettings he wanted. Maybe Harrison would have a sausage link ready to wolf down in a matter of seconds. If dogs could purr, these thoughts would get Loki’s throat motor running. Maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than a couple of royals whose minds were somewhere else. Loki knew they wouldn’t be like that forever, but why did this cycle of grieving have to take so long?

“Loki!” said a sinister throaty voice that only the funeral home dog could hear. His head perked right up and he looked everywhere. “Loki! Loki-Pokey! Loki J. Pokicus! Sweet gee-nee baby!” There was only one person the dog knew of who would use such a hideous, yet endearing baby voice. But it couldn’t be him. He was dead! Ozzie the Wise made sure of that with a storm of lightning bolts! Loki whined and wailed as the hypnotic voice from beyond continued to haunt his mind.

“Loki-Pokey! Into the coffin room, Loki! I have a treat for you! Come get some din-din!”

The dog pranced and galloped into the coffin room where Harrison’s body was being kept. There it was among rows of beautiful pink wildflowers. There it was among stands of burned out candles. There it was smelling of death and fried meat: Harrison’s corpse resting in a golden casket. He wasn’t moving. He gave no indication that he was alive. But that voice was unmistakable. That grizzly-bear-like voice that was reserved for the sweetest of animals. “Come to me, Loki! Eat something other than dried food!”

Could Loki do it? Did he dare do such a thing to Harrison’s corpse? Yes, he was a dead body that should never have been violated…but his burned flesh reminded Loki of strips of bacon. The saltiness made him drool. The fattiness made him pant and smile. He had stars in his eyes the likes a depressed necromancer and king had never seen before. Could he do it? Loki slowly approached the casket licking his lips. He sniffed Harrison’s burned skin. Oh, that salty stench that only grew more powerful with the increasing loudness in Loki’s head.

He took a bite of crispy bacon flesh. He swallowed it down in a rush. He took another bite. And another. And another. This desecrating act soon turned into a god-like feast. Loki couldn’t stop eating. The meat was so delicious and tender, so crispy and salty, so juicy and fatty. It didn’t take long at all for Harrison’s corpse to be reduced to an empty shell of black bones. For good measure and good flavor, Loki licked the bones clean until their savory benefits were gone. The dog’s tummy was fatter than a hot air balloon. His colon was gassier than industrial smoke.

But more importantly, Loki’s eyes were brighter than Ozzie the Wise’s lightning spells could ever be. The eyes glows bright green while the light in the back of his throat projected red energy. Loki convulsed and twisted, rolling around on the carpeted floor and knocking over some of the flowers and candles. He also knocked over a sacred religious tome that Razor Ripley kept for such occasions. His stomach bulged and his anus blasted.

A shield of thunder enveloped Loki’s body until he had become just like any other experiment Harrison worked on: human-like. His body was no longer his own. His thoughts were at the mercy of spiritual puppet strings. The voice in Loki’s head grew louder until it was the only thought he had. The disgraced King Harrison Gaines had complete control of Loki’s body. He was alive and well once again, back from the dead and hungry for the vengeance he wished the animal society had earlier.

“Loki…you are my vessel…you are my slave…you will do what my worthless human carcass couldn’t do the first time around. You will kill Ozzie the Wise…and you will kill anybody who hurts our cause, whether they come from within Rainbow Ranch or far beyond. You will use my magic. You will obey my commands. And if you’re a good boy…I will give you all the love and affection you deserve in the afterlife!”

Harrison’s wicked laughter echoed throughout Loki’s acid-washed mind, but also blasted out of the dog’s mouth along with drool and magical energy. Vengeance would come whether James and Ripley wanted it to or not. That would go double for the “weak” animals who were “too lazy” to find their own justice after being abandoned on this island.

"Reflections on Healing" by Rachel Oates

BOOK TITLE: Reflections on Healing

AUTHOR: Rachel Oates

YEAR: 2022

GENRE: Poetry and Photography

SUBGENRES: Mental Health, Feminism, and Abuse

GRADE: A

Rachel Oates has always had a complicated relationship with poetry, whether she was critiquing it on her You Tube channel or writing some of her own. But through it all, her writing skills shine brilliantly in this collection of poetry. She explores uncomfortable topics through a sensitive lens. Even when the poems don’t have happy endings, they never feel exploitative. They feel like she’s being true to herself and using her hurtful experiences to help others who are going through the same thing. In addition to helping other victims, these poems are also a middle finger to anybody who would ever beat or degrade another human being through the façade of compliments and love-bombing. Rachel Oates fancies herself a rookie in the poetry genre, but you wouldn’t know that from how expertly she handles the written word. That alone is worth an A grade.

One of my favorite poems in this book is Romb, a title which is not a typo, but a well-crafted pun. She talks about having a room to herself only for judgmental neighbors and men in suits to condescend to her and tell her how she should live in it. This is all of course a metaphor for her womb and how pro-life activists are every bit as nosy and intrusive as the people judging her room. Rachel says in one of her videos that a goal of poetry is to find innovative ways to say what the poet wants to say. She certainly lived up to her own advice in this poem and that’s a recurring theme throughout the entire book. She may be a rookie, but she’s a student first and foremost and is therefore a serial learner who takes in so much creative fuel before starting her projects. Learning doesn’t stop after graduating college. She’ll no doubt take this knowledge with her if she decides to put out another book of poetry.

Another poem I enjoyed was the much more disturbing Puppet Master, where she once again uses innovative comparisons to describe a serious topic, this time being abused by one of her now ex-boyfriends. Oh sure, the puppet master has pretty dolls and he assures you that you’re the prettiest of them all, different from the others. And through this manipulation and psychological torture, you believe these lies while becoming made of wood and strings yourself, strings that leave bruises from being tightly bound, and wood that doesn’t move until the puppet master says so. Thankfully, the poem ends on a high note of Rachel leaving her boyfriend and starting the healing process. But man, does this poem hit me where it hurts the most. While I’ve only had two romantic relationships in my whole life and neither of them were that bad in hindsight, I did have other people in my life bombard me with hate and then suck up to me with love and compliments. Rachel and I may both be atheists, but we can surely agree that there’s a special place in hell for people who gaslight and abuse their loved ones.

Of course, the other genre this book falls under is photography. She definitely has been engaging in this craft for a long period of time, judging from how professional and expressive each photo is. I especially like the one she took of downtown Southbank. Then again, cityscape photography has always been fascinating to me, whether it’s the bright lights, cool water, or beautiful colors in the sky. Honestly, Rachel could take pictures of mundane objects and it would still be considered great art by virtue of her own artistic integrity and personal lens (no pun intended). That’s the mark of a true artist: you know who made the art because their personal voice and point of view shines through in the most recognizable way possible.

This book is less than a hundred pages long, so you can breeze right by it in no time at all. But the poetry and photography will stay with you long after the reading experience is over. I will remember Rachel Oates’s work for the rest of my life, not only because of the raw vulnerability, but also because of the skill in which she executes her writing. I look forward to more publications from her, just as I always look forward to her upcoming You Tube videos. She smashes the stereotype of You Tubers being cash grabbers when it comes to publishing books. She’s serious about her craft and she will prove it to you over and over again until it stays with you forever. Noticing a theme here? Nothing less than five stars. Brilliant and heart-wrenching!

"Doggolescence" by Rachel Oates and Kyra the Staffy

BOOK TITLE: Doggolescence
AUTHORS: Rachel Oates and Kyra the Staffy
YEAR: 2020
GENRE: Poetry
SUBGENRE: Animal Parodies
GRADE: Pass

All Rachel Oates wanted to do was have some fun at the expense of Gabbie Hanna and her “poetry”. Nothing too serious, just a few parodies from the point of view of Rachel’s lovable doggy Kyra. Because Kyra has childlike innocence, the parody poems are simple by nature, but are much more entertaining than the source material. There are lots of funny ones like “Honey”, “Texts”, and “Mirror”, but also some serious ones like “Nights”. Judging from the effective punch lines at the end of the funnier poems, if Rachel Oates wanted to be a standup comic somewhere down the line, she very well could since she possesses a perfect understanding of joke structures. But a poem like “Nights” will hit you like a heavyweight punch to the gut. Dogs who live at shelters are notoriously lonely since they have nobody to snuggle with and all of the blankets and toys on the concrete floor doesn’t change the fact that the floor is indeed made out of concrete. I know the phrase, “Adopt, don’t shop!” gets used quite liberally, but to be frank, it doesn’t get said enough. Rachel understands this and not only did she get an awesome book out of it, but she has something worth so much more: a loving doggy to call her own. Belly rubs, ear scratches, jowl wiggles, and most importantly, steak treats! All the good things in life come from Rachel’s home. Which is why it’s hard for me to point out one teeny tiny little flaw in this collection: too much bathroom humor for my tastes. But that’s just my opinion and Rachel doesn’t have to adjust her writing style for one reader. All in all, a nice little poetry book even if she openly admits to putting as little effort into it as Gabbie Hanna put into her own book. Four out of five stars! And by the way, the pictures of Kyra are so darn cute!

The Fanatics

VERSE 1

Science fiction has always been fiction

Brainwashing rhetoric’s part of your diction

Looking like dorks in black slacks and ties

“Boys will be boys, we’re just one of the guys”

Dementia’s done less damage than your ethos

Stripping creativity from ordinary people

A cult of fanatics, that’s all that you are

I’ve heard better speeches from drunks at bars

CHORUS 1

Conga line of doom

Darkness in your room

Poison in your food

You’re the fanatics!

Permanent addicts!

VERSE 2

Leaving your sorry ass like an abusive husband

An army of puppets is what you’ve summoned

There’s nowhere for the escapees to retreat

Dead pets hollowed out and laying at their feet

CHORUS 2

Psychological rot

Void of deep thought

Never ever get caught

You’re the fanatics!

Bringers of madness!

BRIDGE

Just another million dollar check in your account

Your followers grow even bigger in amount

An army of zombies to do whatever you need

A dinner of flesh and bladed mouths to feed

VERSE 3

World domination is what you want the most

Who cares if the innocents end up as ghosts?

Who cares if we have to look over our shoulders?

Who cares if we have no chance of getting older?

Follow our asses all over the fucking planet

Even in outer space you have the advantage

Governments in your pocket, aliens by your side

Nowhere left to run and nowhere left to hide

CHORUS 3

Gossamers in your head

Rape victims in your bed

Your critics end up dead

You’re the fanatics!

Most dangerous faction!

One day you will fall

Hands against the wall

The right to one phone call

You’re the prisoners!

Good riddance, you sinners!

"Souls of the Reaper" by Markie Madden

BOOK TITLE: Souls of the Reaper (Undead Unit 2)

AUTHOR: Markie Madden

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Paranormal Crime Drama

GRADE: Pass

I can say with utmost certainty that this novel is an improvement from the last. Sure, it still has its fair share of typos such as quotation marks that don’t end, but those are little things that can be easily fixed. Colton’s werewolf anger was perfectly justified this time around. His truck gets egged, his suspects are uncooperative, technology malfunctions from time to time, and doing paperwork is still a pain in the neck. As for the shifter newbie, Kazz, her passion for learning is evident as it should be for all rookies, especially those in law enforcement. Marcell comes off as a sweet and gentle soul as does Niall, which makes sense since they’re both in the business of healing people. Lacey Anderson is a believable main character in her own right. She’s tough on crime, sensitive to the victims of said crimes, and vulnerable during her moments of weakness. Being immortal creatures doesn’t make any of these protagonists Mary-Sues, because they still have to rely on police procedure and their own wits to get the job done. The overall team is effective in their duties and that’s something they had to earn throughout the Undead Unit series so far.

I only have two minor complaints when it comes to this book and this is just nitpicky stuff. I would have liked for Lacey’s adopted dog Morgan to get more page time, especially since it would’ve kept the fighting kennel raid scene from becoming a mere side story. Plus, I enjoy stories of former fighting animals finding love in their forever homes. It warms my heart. The other minor complaint I had was the way the final chapter (not the epilogue) concluded. The criminal reaper who’s been stealing souls to satisfy his lust for power, Su Xiong, was billed as this dangerous warrior who could snap at any minute. While I won’t give away what happens to him as this is a spoiler-free review, it was just a tad underwhelming for a guy who’s supposed to be as dangerous as he is. Granted, the path to this ending was by no means easy or pain-free, but the streak of agony should have continued into the final encounter. But again, these two complaints don’t ruin the entire story for me. I’ll always cherish Markie Madden’s way of bringing her worlds to life.

Think of your favorite TV crime show, whether it’s NCIS, CSI, Law & Order, or The Shield among others, and pair it with supernatural themes such as soul reaping, astral projection, and undead racism. That hodgepodge is what you can expect from Souls of the Reaper. It’s fun, clever, creative, and you’ll love it so much that you’ll want to see it on TNT or CBS one day as a full-time show. Even Syfy would love to get their hands on this story if it meant turning it into a well-crafted TV series. Four out of five stars will go to Markie Madden’s wonderful police procedural. I hope to one day finish the Undead Unit series!

I Love My Dog

CHORUS

I love my dog X4

VERSE 1

Schipperke, sweetie pea, fluffy love for me

Fur child, jungle wild, energetic style

Tiny puppy, little chubby, man’s best buddy

Barge dog, he’s the boss, barks like he’s God

CHORUS

I love my dog X4

VERSE 2

Butt rubs, back rubs, bath time scrubs

Slice of ham, rack of lamb, feed the little man

Comfy bed, rest his head, after he’s been fed

Spoil him, pamper him, joyous to the brim

BRIDGE

His name is Willem and he’s my baby

You can pet him too, for sure, not maybe

You can love him, he’s sweeter than candy

A bacon cheeseburger will come in handy

A bowl of cereal will earn his friendship

A permanent home will make it endless

But watch out for his hyperactive spark

He’s so happy that he’ll infinitely bark

CHORUS

I love my dog X4

A Dog's Journey

MOVIE TITLE: A Dog’s Journey

DIRECTOR: Gail Mancuso

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: Animal Drama

RATING: PG for mild violence

GRADE: Extra Credit

An Australian Shepherd named Bailey enjoys life on a farm with his puppy parents Ethan and Hannah. He also loves their granddaughter CJ and has sworn to protect her no matter how many lives it takes him to do so. An alcoholic mother, a slew of bad boyfriends, and a dwindling music career all serve as obstacles for CJ growing up. The one thing she can count on is always having a puppy-duppy by her side despite the negative influences around her. Can this series of dogs help CJ find her way into a comfortable and loving life?

There wasn’t a single dry eye in the move theater when I saw this. Even though I take medication that keeps me emotionally numb, I also couldn’t help but shed a tear or two. Every death, every heartbreak, every cancer diagnosis, and every tragedy in this movie meant something. I wouldn’t have teared up for characters I didn’t care about, but CJ and her many dogs are incredibly deserving of not only the audience’s attention, but love as well. CJ may be the most lovable human character of them all, but even she’s not above making foolish mistakes from time to time. Her imperfections make her a suitable vehicle for our emotions. When she cries, you cry. When she’s happy, you’re happy. When she conquers the world, you too feel inspired to do so. That’s a lot of tears for a lot of moviegoers.

As many lovable characters as there are in this film, they couldn’t bring you those much-needed tears without their foils. Gloria, CJ’s neglectful and emotionally abusive mother, is very much deserving of your scorn. But even she can be redeemable, which is more than the audience will ever say about CJ’s criminal boyfriend Shane or her arrogant suit-wearing boyfriend afterwards named Barry. It’s toxic people like these that remind the audience over and over again never to make the foolish choices that CJ had the misfortune of making. These villains wouldn’t make good puppy parents. They wouldn’t even make good casual acquaintances. The sooner CJ is rid of them, the better off she’ll be. It’s heartbreaking to watch these people invade her life, but it’s necessary to keep the conflict strong and the audience’s eyeballs wet.

And of course, Bailey wouldn’t be able to protect CJ as much as he has if not for the power of reincarnation. This is a powerful theme in the movie, especially when the dead dogs run through a wheat field to cross the Rainbow Bridge. There are critics of reincarnation out there and they very well could be right. But there’s no denying the comfort it brings to owners of deceased pets. It doesn’t even have to be a religious deal. It could just be comfort for comfort’s sake. I had a spunky all-white cat named Simon who crossed the Rainbow Bridge in 2011. Two years later I adopted an equally-spunky cat named Tori, whom I jokingly call Simon 2.0 because of how similar they are. It could be a coincidence, but even my atheist heart doesn’t have it in me to ruin the magic for pet owners, let alone the moviegoers who shed many tears in the theater that evening.

It’s rare when a movie hits me where it hurts the most. I usually watch a movie with the idea that I’ll like it, but not much beyond that. I didn’t just like this movie. I loved it. It made me believe in the power of animal companionship all over again (not that I ever questioned it). Our fur babies depend on us to provide love and care. I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live. I consider it to be my life’s purpose, above my writing career even. That’s what A Dog’s Journey means to me and that’s why I’m giving it an extra credit grade. Congratulations, puppy-duppies: you’ve earned every broken heart.

Goddamn Dog

As Tim Coleman laid half asleep in bed on a rainy afternoon, he kept wondering why his girlfriend Jade Quinn had “One More Light” by Linkin Park playing on repeat before she left for work in the morning. She wasn’t her usual peppy self. No smiles. No kisses. Not even a hug. Just cold, empty eyes as she left Tim in charge of dogsitting duty. The pouring rain coupled with the dour mood made him curl up against his pillow even more. A pillow was no substitute for Jade, however. He would have settled for Millie crawling up under the blankets. But then…

Something assaulted Tim’s nose like a wrecking ball to the face and had just about as much knockout power. He pulled his nostrils under the blanket, but he could still smell that rancid, god-awful odor coming from the living room. “Oh no…no, no, no…please tell me she didn’t do it…no…no…NO!”

He threw the blankets off of him and stomped out to the living room wearing just his athletic shorts. The harder he stomped, the more rage pumped through his ogre-like body. The odor set his nostrils nearly ablaze as he tried to suppress the urge to vomit. And then he made it to the living room and saw that Jade’s hardwood floors had become a battlefield of landmines. Gigantic, steaming brown landmines with the general herself laying on the ground in guilt. Millie the salt n’ pepper colored Labrador mooed like a cow before unleashing a cloud of toxic gas from her already putrid bunghole.

“Goddamn it, Millie! You stupid fucking goddamn dog!” shouted Tim from the top of his lungs. “I am so sick and tired of cleaning up your fucking messes! You goddamn dog!” Fury and venom poured from the fat man’s lips with every swearing scream. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you stupid dog!” Though he would never go through on such a threat, Millie wouldn’t have known as she guiltily tucked her head.

Tim stomped to the bathroom and fetched the necessary cleaning supplies for a job this disgusting: paper towels, a mop, and a bucket he filled with soapy water. In between retrieving these necessary items, he kept on roaring like the pissed off lion he was. “You goddamn dog! Quit shitting all over the fucking floor, asshole!”

His first course of action was to scoop up all of the dog turds with god knows how many paper towels before flushing them down the toilet separately. Every time he bent over, the odor triggered his gag reflex to where he wanted to vomit himself inside out. While that would be an instant relief to his aching and tired body, it would also mean more messes to clean up. “Goddamn stupid ass fucking dog!” he screamed.

After flushing the turds down the drain, he sat on the toilet seat for a while and wiped the sweat from his body, which poured like the rainy weather outside. Tim took several deep breaths not only to recover his lost energy, but also in a vain attempt to calm himself down. “Stupid dog…stupid goddamn dog!” he screamed, completely destroying his ambitions of nirvana.

Step two of this ultimate cleaning job was to mop the floors as vigorously as he could. A few strokes in and he was already sucking wind. Wind, by the way, that was broken by a sixteen-year-old dog huddling in the corner. “Stupid dog!” Tim screamed again as he scrubbed the wooden floor. No matter how hard he mopped, the air thickened like he was in a burning building. At this point he was genuinely surprised the smoke alarm didn’t go off during this job. “You stupid motherfucking dog! Quit making me clean up after you, you little shithead!”

Once he was certain the shit was completely cleaned up off the floor, he death-marched to the bathroom to flush the mop water down the toilet. His head ached worse than if he had been beaten with hammers. His heart pounded as if a Mortal Kombat character was trying to rip it out. His lower back flared with pain like he had taken a body slam over a pile of razorblades. Tim sat on the toilet and sucked some more wind, confident that his job was finally over.

He had recovered a modicum of his energy before he put the cleaning supplies back in the bathroom closet. Slowly and languidly, he waddled out to the living room and took care not to slip on the wet surface. The only wet surface he had to deal with it that moment was the one on Jade Quinn’s horrified face, an intensification of what she felt when she left for work this morning.

There she was in her business skirt, high heels, and wrinkled dress shirt. She dropped her purse by her feet and stared down Tim’s guilty soul with wetness in her eyes. Her lips quivered as she tried to form a sentence. “T…Tim…did I just…hear you…yelling at Millie?” No response, only a saggy frown to match his guilt. “Answer me!” she cried.

Tim’s own face quivered as he too tried to muster up the words he needed. “Jade, I’m sorry. She…she shit all over the floor and…I panicked…I would never do anything to hurt Millie, you know that, right?”

Pointing her manicured finger at Tim, Jade fought back the rest of her tears in vain as she mumbled, “You…would never…hurt Millie?” Silence hung between the two lovers like a yawning, fiery chasm. “You just did, you insensitive asshole!” Jade dropped to her knees and held her long blond hair in her hands, emptying her eyes of emotional fluids. Millie slowly edged towards her and got a scratch behind the ears from her one true master.

Tim gingerly approached his girlfriend and knelt down to put his massive hand on her shoulder. Jade swatted him away instantly. “Don’t touch me!” she sobbed. “You’ve done enough damage today!” She hugged Millie around her neck and cried into her salt and pepper fur. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry he yelled at you like that.”

Tim stood back up not knowing what else to say. Apologizing didn’t work. Explaining his actions didn’t work. Not even a gentle touch of the shoulder could bring his girlfriend out of her sorrowful abyss. He knew he fucked up badly and could do nothing but sit on the leather couch with his pudgy face in his hands.

“You can’t sit there anymore, Tim,” blubbered Jade. “Not after what you did. This was supposed to be Millie’s special day. I was going to take her to the park and get her ice cream after I got off work. And now…all she’s going to remember is you yelling at her…How could you, Tim?”

“Wha…What do you mean all she’s going to remember? Is that why you played that Linkin Park song this morning? Jade, you can tell me what’s going on.”

Wiping away tears even though they wouldn’t stop coming, Jade lifted her face from her hug with the dog and said, “Millie has stomach cancer. That’s why she’s been going to the bathroom on the floor a lot. And you react to this mild inconvenience by yelling those awful things at her?!”

Tim didn’t notice it when he was cleaning, but now that he thought about it, there were small traces of red in Millie’s stool. The guilt choked him up like a noose around the neck. His eyes grew sore, but he did a better job of hiding his sadness than his girlfriend. Even during this dark time he was too proud to fall apart in front of her. But he couldn’t help it. One tear rolled down his cheek while many more cascaded from Jade’s eyes.

“You know, Jade…there’s no reason…why we can’t still get Millie ice cream.” His voice trembled as he etched out those words.

“Yes, there is!” shouted Jade as she stood back up. “She’ll just shit all over the floor and you’ll scream like a little child again as you clean it up! The only reason why you’re sorry is because you got caught! You don’t care about my dog! You don’t care about my emotions! In fact, get your fat ass off my couch and get dressed! I don’t want you here anymore!”

Tim didn’t get up. He sat there and let another tear roll down his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jade.”

“No, you’re not!” cried Jade as she grabbed Tim’s arm and tried in vain to jerk him to a standing position. When he wouldn’t budge, she just crumpled to a pile on the floor and cried some more, prompting Millie to lick her face dry.

“Jade…if you give me the keys to your car…I will go to the supermarket and buy vanilla ice cream for Millie. She loves vanilla, right?”

“Go to hell, Tim!”

“Listen to me!” urged Tim as he cupped Jade’s shoulders in his hands. “If you still want me gone from here, I’ll go. But please let me get the ice cream for Millie. She deserves that much. Right, old lady?” Tim petted Millie’s head and talked cutely to her about what a good dog she was, even planting a kiss on her wet nose. Millie returned a puppy kiss for his efforts.

Tim then held Jade’s hand in his own and begged, “Please…let me get the ice cream. You can even come with me if you want and we’ll listen to One More Light for as long as you want. I love that song too. And Millie can come ride with us. She can stick her head out the window and…”

“Tim, enough,” said Jade while a holding a hand in front of her boyfriend. She wiped away a tear and sniffed snot up her nose. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s just going to shit in the car again and you’ll go on another yelling spree. If anybody’s going to get the ice cream, it’s me.”

With that said, Jade and Millie walked out of the house together for a ride in the car while Tim sat on the couch in his shorts sulking it up. A few tears escaped his eyes and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. It was over. It was all over. Not just for him, but for Millie as well. The puppy kiss didn’t even feel like true forgiveness. Knowing his hands were unclean (in more ways than one), Tim Coleman pulled himself off the couch and trudged back to the bedroom, presumably to get his things and go.

And then…he walked past the kitchen and saw something magnetized to the refrigerator door. He pulled down a familiar sheet of glossy paper and studied it for a while before making his final attempt at goodwill towards Jade and Millie. Wasting no more time, he picked up the phone and dialed a number on the sheet of paper. A few rings later, he was patched in.

“Thank you for choosing Pizza Hut. How can I help you tonight?”

“Yes, I’d like an extra large meat lover’s pizza with stuffed crust.” Tim couldn’t contain his sorrow over the phone and it was noticeable.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Not really. But I’m sure my dog will be happy to see you once you get here with that pizza.”

Pearlescent Beauty

Pearlescent beauty for the cheapest price

A higher cost will allow you to entice

A thousand dollars for a worthless stone

Advertise that shit on the No Spin Zone

Never mind the dirt poor souls who died

To give you a symbol of aristocratic pride

No other function except to look pretty

The Art of the Deal never looked so shitty

A diamond is forever unlike life itself

A diamond is love when it’s forged in hell

Wasted money on toys for your honey

Wasted ceremony, this shit ain’t funny

Those thousands of dollars are better spent

On a poor motherfucker trying to pay the rent

On a homeless dog looking for a new master

On a beaten wife whose husband is a bastard

You’re lucky to learn these lessons in school

If the teachers didn’t already label you a fool

Empathetic emotions are for those who seek it

A starving tummy needs someone to feed it

You can’t eat diamonds, pearls, or golden rings

You can’t do a whole lot with material things

If you love somebody, shout it from the roof

Breaking the bank shouldn’t be your only proof

Italian Stallion

Let’s bookend this crazy twenty-eighteen

With the cutest fuzz ball you’ve ever seen

The sweetest old man to walk the earth

The reason for my happiness and rebirth

His name is Emilio, the Italian Stallion

Bouncy like Tigger, sleepy like Valium

His interests include cuddling and snuggling

Whether I’m happy with life or struggling

The year before, three fur babies passed

I never thought it could happen so fast

Maggie the saggy-jowled Springer Spaniel

Watching her die was more than I could handle

Sitka was a kitty called the Queen of Halloween

Now her spiritual essence will forever fly free

Smokey loved to sleep on my comfy bed

Now she permanently rests her fuzzy head

While nobody could replace these beautiful souls

Somebody had to patch up my heart full of holes

Emilio the sweetie pie would come to my aid

Though at first he was timid, lonely, and afraid

It took some pettings and cradles in my arms

No longer would he come into danger or harm

Safe from the streets, cozy under my roof

Love is very real and Emilio is living proof

May he spend his days happy and relaxed

To a homeless life, he’ll never ever go back

Welcome to my home, welcome to my bed

Feel free to rest your fluffy old kitty head

My Child

VERSE 1

If I allowed you to be born in this world

Your hate for me would come full circle

I’d give you the genes, the mental disease

You would murder yourself to be set free

Ripping the stitches after life-saving surgery

Someone stole your soul, an act of burglary

A never-ending cycle of psychological torture

Another week to live is what the doctor orders

VERSE 2

If I allowed you to be born on this earth

You’d be considered a criminal by virtue of birth

Bullied by the worst kinds of scum in school

Fired by the bosses with their autocratic rule

Beaten by the cowards in the dingiest prison

Until darkness becomes your only true vision

I couldn’t put you through any of that shit

Another reason to never have my own kid

BRIDGE

My child, my son, my daughter, my young

Punished for the crime of not holding your tongue

Punished for the crime of not breaking down

Punished for wanting to drown out the sounds

Of the voices telling you you’re not good enough

That surviving this world is for the macho and tough

I can’t raise you in an environment such as this

Time to say goodnight with a forehead kiss

VERSE 3

My only children have fur on their bodies

My only children bark for a piece of salami

My only children meow for a can of tuna fish

My only children drink from a paw print dish

My only children don’t need to go to college

To pay off their debts by emptying their wallets

To answer to the police for doing nothing wrong

Just listen to this purr baby’s mechanical song

I Don't Have a Dog

CHORUS

I don’t have a dog in this fight

I can’t decide who’s wrong or right

We can go all day, go all night

If only there was an arena in sight

VERSE 1

He said this and then she said that

What they said was a whole lot of jack

Hidden agenda, open challenge policy

Open the door for verbal sodomy

Everything’s on the table for the media

Sooner or later, it’s marked with tedium

Whatever happened to keeping the peace?

When will the madness finally cease?

CHORUS

I don’t have a dog in this fight

I can’t decide who’s wrong or right

We can go all day, go all night

If only there was an arena in sight

VERSE 2

Slinging mud and slinging shit

They’re hoping for a critical hit

Drinking poison, wishing for death

On each other, it makes no sense

This isn’t a wrestling or boxing ring

Stop fighting over every little thing

Diplomacy is what you all need

Before you fuckers start to bleed

BRIDGE

Conscientious objection

This ain’t some kind of election

Digging up the dirt

Will cause both of you to hurt

Friendly fire, both are liars

It’s what the camera requires

I don’t have a dog in this war

I don’t want to see any more

EXTENDED CHORUS

I don’t have a dog in this fight

I can’t decide who’s wrong or right

We can go all day, go all night

If only there was an arena in sight

I don’t have a dog in this battle

I don’t blindly follow like cattle

Reality TV is rated TV-MA

Disgusts me so much, I turn away

Three Roads

***COLD OPEN***

Before I get to the bulk of this blog entry, I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who offered me and my family condolences after we had to put our dog Maggie to sleep. She was a dear member of the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household and will always have a special place in our hearts. Thank you, Maggie, for bringing us over a decade of joy. You’re now reunited with Molly and the two of you can play and wrestle on the Rainbow Bridge forever. I love you, Maggie-Pie.

***THREE ROADS***

Though I struggled to concentrate, I managed to write the final chapter of Beautiful Monster last night, which means I’m going to need another project to work on. As of now, I have three possible routes I could go. One of them is to write movie reviews for my birthday DVD’s until I can come up with something more permanent. The second option would be to work on another novel, but I don’t know which one I want to take a stab at yet. And then there’s the third and arguably most difficult option, edit the shit out of one of my many first drafts and publish it in paperback and Kindle form. Tonight we’re going to look at all three options to see which one is best for me at the moment.

***MOVIE REVIEWS***

Anytime I receive gifts for my birthday or Christmas, I always have to take pictures of them and post them online. I don’t know what I hope to achieve with that. It’s not like they’re award-winning photographs. It must have something to do with being chronologically predisposed to taking pictures of everything since I was born in 1985. One of these many pictures features a pile of DVD’s juxtaposed with a graphic novel about Andre the Giant (another medium I plan on reviewing in the future). I don’t get the opportunity to watch movies that much (because I’m too zonked out to even try), but I’ll make time for these DVD’s for sure. Here are the reviews you can look forward to:

1. Aviator
2. Battlestar Galactica
3. Cloud Atlas
4. District 9
5. Flight Plan

My mom’s work buddy Eric has nothing but good things to say about Cloud Atlas, so I’ll probably watch and review that one first. And then there’s District 9, which Ashley-Pie says is a modern day classic. I don’t know a whole lot about the other three movies, but they’re getting their time to shine one way or another.

***NOVEL IDEAS***

A little birdie once suggested to me that I write longer chapters and shoot for more of them instead of only conforming to a twenty chapter limit. Actually, he’s not a birdie. His name is Patrick and he’s easily one of my favorite readers, so I put a lot of trust in the things he says. The question now becomes, what will that next novel be? I don’t have very many mapped out from beginning to end, so that will be something I have to do when I eventually make my choice. I’m leaning towards these ideas as of now:

1. Booger the Clown (modern fantasy about an ex-marine turned birthday clown who picks fights with an orc militia in an attempt to kill himself)
2. Fantasmic Land (modern fantasy about a high school student who runs away from home and spends his days in a hedonistic magical theme park)
3. Incelbordination (college drama about a dwarf student who is a person of interest for an on-campus organization of “involuntary celibates”)
4. Suck It, Double Dork (crime thriller about a disgruntled cartoonist (loosely based on the creator of Ren & Stimpy, John K) who leaves pornographic drawings in public places in order to create a shock in the system)
5. The Last Thunder Eagle (young adult drama about an angry elementary school kid who spends summer vacation playing soccer (which he hates) instead of playing videogames (which he loves))

Decisions, decisions, decisions…and choices, too…

***UPDATED CHICKEN SHIT LIST***

A chicken shit list is a term I coined for a roster of first draft creative writing projects that I hope to have edited and published sometime in the near future. The term comes from the phrase “making chicken salad out of chicken shit”. The higher on the list the project ranks, the harder it will be to edit the shit out of. Novels will always rank highest since altering one part of them could change the whole story altogether. Short story collections rank in the middle since they don’t interact with each other canon-wise. Poetry ranks lowest on the list because, well, poems are much easier to write than novels and short stories. This is what my updated chicken shit list looks like:

1. Filter Feeder (environmental fantasy novel about a duo of clam fisherman who want revenge on an energy corporation after their lake was poisoned with oil)
2. Watch You Burn (psychological fantasy novel about a schizophrenic college student who has realistic hallucinations about being the chosen hero in his favorite anime)
3. Demon Axe (heavy metal fantasy novel about a singer who must gain the confidence to slay an elven terrorist after the singer’s band mates are brutally murdered)
4. Silent Warrior (young adult drama novel about a high school introvert who feels as though he’s being mentally crippled by the system around him)
5. Beautiful Monster (historical fantasy drama about an elf knight who escapes sex slavery and must deal with the consequences of PTSD afterwards)
6. Poison Tongue Tales 2 (science-fiction, fantasy, and horror short stories of varying subject matter)
7. American Darkness 2 (contemporary drama short stories of varying subject matter, mostly politics)
8. American Darkness 3 (more contemporary stories that I’ll probably fuse with its predecessor when the time comes to publish the collection)
9. It’s My Country and I’ll Cry If I Want To (WIP poetry collection about varying subject matter, mostly dealing with politics and psychology)

The next project I edit the shit out of will depend on my editor/beta-readers’ collective schedules. The more time they have, the more likely they are to take on a high-ranking project. No pressure whatsoever.

***CONCLUSION***

So that’s what the near future looks like for Garrison Kelly a.k.a. me. If you have any input as to which roads I should take, I’d love to hear it. Let’s turn this artistic process into a democracy! Why? Because I love you all, that’s why! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“A restless eye across a weary room. A glazed look and I was on the road to ruin. The music played and played as we whirled without end No hint, no word, her honor to defend. “I will, I will,” she sighed to my request. And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test. Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire, I led the way to the funeral pyre. Without a thought of consequence, I gave into my decadence. Was it love or was it the idea of being in love? Or was it the hand of fate that seemed to fit just like a glove? A moment slipped by and soon the seeds were sewn. The year grew late and neither one wanted to remain alone. One slip and down the hole we fall. It seems to take no time at all. A momentary lapse of reason that binds a life for life. A small regret you won’t forget. There’ll be no sleep in here tonight.”

-Pink Floyd singing “One Slip”-

Goodbye Maggie

***GOODBYE MAGGIE***

Tomorrow afternoon, Dale and I are going to the vet to put our dog Maggie to sleep. She has lived to be sixteen years old, much older than normally expected for her breed. During the final moments of those sixteen years, she’s had a litany of health problems that justify euthanasia. She was blind, deaf, weak, incontinent, physically unstable, and an all around sick dog. She’s constantly in pain and there’s only so much we can do for her before having to make this ultimate decision.

Maggie came into my life in 2005 when her owner, Dale, married my mom in his original home state of Wyoming. She was accompanied by another Springer Spaniel dog named Molly. The two of them would bounce, play, and wrestle happily together all the time. Maggie’s favorite toy was a blue ball that she would fetch while Molly’s was a leather Frisbee. I’ll always remember Maggie and Molly getting in a tug-of-war over the Frisbee and Molly would get an unfair advantage by shaking her head.

Three years ago on Father’s Day, Molly passed away due to lung cancer and it was a death that hit all of us hard, especially Dale. Three years later, here we are again in the month of June having to watch Molly’s adopted sister Maggie be put to sleep. Sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years and it’s all over. Given her declining health, it was a foregone conclusion, but that doesn’t soften the blow that our family will no doubt feel.

There isn’t a whole lot left to say except for goodbye to our elderly ray of puppy sunshine. Rest in peace, Saggy-Maggie. You will be missed dearly.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“If they say who cares if one more light goes out? In a sky of a million stars, it flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone’s time runs out? If a moment is all we are, we’re quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, I do.”

-Linkin Park singing “One More Light”-

Garrisonian Tropes

***GARRISONIAN TROPES***

Whenever Ashley Uzzell/Marie Krepps and I get together for a critiquing session, she always jokes about common tropes that end up in my writing and I laugh along with her. She recently wrote an awesome review for American Darkness where she describes my characters as being constantly pissed off about everything. I thought that was funny as hell. Plus, I’m grateful for all three of my stars. Would you guys like to see some of these tropes and how I analyze them? I’m sure you’d love that, so that’s what I’m going to do since I’m all about customer service.

***MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL***

Debra Winter from Occupy Wrestling (published) and Kelly McVeigh from Filter Feeder (first draft) would be the exceptions to this rule, but from Watch You Burn on, every female supporting character I had falls under the Manic Pixie Dream Girl category. Every fucking one of them. In case you don’t know what this pejorative term means, it’s a supporting female character whose sole purpose in the novel is to boost the self-esteem of the brooding male protagonist. Jessica Harley (Watch You Burn), Raven Triscloud (Demon Axe), Adrienne Simpson (Silent Warrior), and Tarja Rikkinen (Beautiful Monster) are all shining examples of the trope. There’s supposed to be some sort of psychoanalysis as to why male authors write these characters, but I don’t quite know what it is. If any of you would like to pick my brain, that’d be wonderful. I swear I’m not writing these characters to be a sexist pig. I didn’t even know this kind of character had a pejorative term until after I started writing Beautiful Monster. I’m so far down the rabbit hole with that novel that I might as well see it through to the twenty-first chapter and fix it all later.

***FAT VILLAINS***

Ashley loves to joke about this one a lot and I can definitely see the humor in it. Most of my fat villains come from American Darkness and Poison Tongue Tales, but Rinehart from Beautiful Monster could fit this trope too. I swear I’m not writing the characters out of self-hatred (because I’m fat too) or because I’m secretly into fat-shaming (I’m not). You won’t even have to pick my brain in order to find out what I’m talking about. If you follow politics, you’ll notice that there are a lot of politicians and pundits out there who are universally hated and also happen to be on the pudgy side. Donald Trump, Newt Gingrich, Alex Jones, Chris Christie, and Rush Limbaugh are all shining examples of this. Villains by their very nature are to be hated, so what better way to hate someone than to compare them to a despicable political figure? I’m sure there are a lot of cartoonists out there who do the exact same thing.

***ANGRY CHARACTERS***

It seems as though every other piece of dialogue in my writing has an exclamation point, a swear word, or an insult attached to it. Plus, it doesn’t help matters that my characters are constantly beating the living shit out of each other. It would be easy to attribute this to my love for WWE since professional wrestlers are constantly cutting angry monologues against each other. Or maybe it’s because I too have a hair trigger temper at the little things in life. I scream like a barbarian whenever the phone rings. I go into swearing fits whenever Maggie shits on the floor or Smokey barfs on my bed. I once spit on my computer screen because my computer was slowing the fuck down and freezing all the time. Maybe there’s something about having schizophrenia that makes me irritable all the time. Maybe I just need a chair massage and a day at the spa.

***SAGGY JOWLED DOGS***

American Darkness and Poison Tongue Tales are where the saggy-jowled dogs live. My step-dad’s dog Maggie has a set of saggy jowls on her, so that’s where I get it from. She’s a mix between a Springer Spaniel and a Bassett Hound. She’s also sixteen years old as of today. She’s older than Herbert’s dog on Family Guy and gets around just as well. Maggie eventually became her own character in a Poison Tongue Tales story called Maggie’s Wisdom, where she played the role of a pilgrim trying to calm down a pissed off monk named Brock Dempsey. Well, what do you know? Another angry character! Wow! Spoiler alert: Brock finds his inner peace by scratching Maggie’s fuzzy belly.

***SENSITIVE CRY BABIES***

It doesn’t matter if the character is a muscle head barbarian or a gentle poet: chances are good they’ve shed a few tears in my stories. Crying actually became part of Windham Xavier’s character development in Beautiful Monster. He’s so afraid of appearing weak in front of his peers that he holds his tears in, forever conforming to male stereotypes that his girlfriend Tarja tries to shatter. But even before that, I’d have macho men crying all the time, most specifically Daniel Mercer from Demon Axe. Then again, Daniel was a heavy metal singer with years of pain behind him and PTSD from watching his band mates die, so he’s excused…I think? Maybe? I don’t know? In case you think this is a self-insert trope, I haven’t had a full-on crying spell since 2007, when I thought my only option for college was going to Evergreen in Olympia, where I would basically be a 24/7 student with no free time to myself. Haven’t cried since then. I did have sore eyes and a little bit of water trickling out whenever I watched old Never Ending Story videos on You Tube, but nothing that resulted in real crying.

***ASSHOLE PROTAGONISTS***

This one can be blamed on shades of gray logic where characters are supposed to have flaws, so I made one of their flaws asshole behavior. Big mistake. I had to edit Occupy Wrestling multiple times because the main character Mitch McLeod appeared too dickish for the heroic role. And now that I look back on Watch You Burn, the main character from there, Mario Bryan, is also a huge douche canoe, which probably makes readers wonder what Jessica Harley (Manic Pixie Dream Girl) sees in him anyways. There’ve been many debates among authors over what constitutes a good protagonist whether it’s flaws, snappy dialogue, average characterization, or whatnot. Some protagonists out there can be assholes without turning the reader off too much. I haven’t mastered that art yet, so maybe I’ll just stick to having friendly characters…who are pissed off all the time…and have saggy jowled dogs as pets…and are dating Manic Pixie Dream Girls….okay, that’s enough. Hehe!

***CONCLUSION***

It could be that I’ve left a few tropes out, but I’m sure they’ll pop up right after I post this blog entry online. They always do. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Some people live their dreams. Some people close their eyes. Some people’s destiny passes by. There are no guarantees. There are no alibis. That’s how our love must be. Don’t ask why. It takes some time. God knows how long. I know that I can forget you as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you. Remembering times gone by, promises we once made. What are the reasons why nothing stays the same? There were the nights holding you close. Someday I’ll try to forget them as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you.”

-Toto singing “I’ll Be Over You”-

"A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo" by Jill Twiss

BOOK TITLE: A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo

AUTHOR: Jill Twiss

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: LGBT Children’s Book

GRADE: Extra Credit

In the stuffiest room in the white house, there lived Marlon Bundo, a lovable bunny rabbit whose grandpa is the dull and boring Vice President Mike Pence. Feeling lonely in his little room, Marlon hops out into the garden and meets another beautiful male bunny named Wesley. The two rabbits fall in love and decide to get married so that they can hop everywhere forever. The only thing stopping them is the strict rule of Mr. Stink Bug (an obvious Mike Pence parody), who says that boy bunnies can only marry girl bunnies. Only when the creatures of the garden come together for a democratic vote can Marlon and Wesley show Mr. Stink Bug that love trumps hate.

If you’re a regular viewer of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver like I am, you’ll know exactly why this book was published: to screw with hard-right homophobe Mike Pence. Anytime that the LGBT community gets to shine its brightest colors is a good day for the world at large. There’s too much bullying and hatred against these poor folks, so any victory they achieve in the name of social justice should be celebrated. What better way to celebrate than with a cute and cuddly gay wedding between two sweethearted bunny-pies?

Speaking of things that are cute and cuddly, that’s another aspect of this book that will earn critical acclaim. Your smile will get bigger and goofier when you see Wesley and Marlon hopping around together like sweet little bunnies should. The other garden animals from the puppy-duppy to the turtle will also steal your heart. And then when the wedding finally happens, you’ve got little mice and porcupines dressed up in their Sunday best, which always looks adorable. You’ll be saying “aww” throughout the entire book. Not even the inner ugliness of Mr. Stink Bug will ruin your experience because once again, love trumps hate and his hateful ways won’t last forever.

So now that we’ve got our LGBT pride and cuteness nailed down, the only other thing to discuss is how important democracy is, since it plays a vital role in the book’s ending. I know there are times when democracy seems dead as a doornail. I know we don’t always like our choices between candidates. I know the people in power like to make voting difficult for the less fortunate. I know it seems like elections can be bought and sold like Wal-Mart goodies. But just like in this book, the power of your vote is more urgent now than it has ever been. If you don’t vote, the Mr. Stink Bugs of the world will.

One hundred percent of the profits from this book will be donated to LGBT charities specializing in suicide prevention and AIDS research. Even if you don’t have children of your own, you’ll still enjoy this book to its fullest extent for all of the reasons I’ve listed above. If on the other hand you do have children, let them know that being different is okay and should be celebrated rather than feared. Nobody is truly alone in this world despite the negative pressure dictating otherwise. An extra credit grade will go to this beautifully crafted book with a positive message and cuddly characters.

"Dog Man: A Tale of Two Kitties" by Dav Pilkey

BOOK TITLE: Dog Man: A Tale of Two Kitties

AUTHOR: Dav Pilkey

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Children’s Adventure

GRADE: Pass

An anthropomorphic dog cop aptly named Dog Man has been assigned to protect a laboratory housing a psychomantic fish, who was rebuilt using mechanical parts so that the scientists could sufficiently study his brain. Elsewhere in the city, another scientific experiment takes place as escaped convict Petey the Kitty creates a miniature clone of himself and struggles to raise it like a real kid. Soon the two stories hit a crossroads in a cutely written adventure involving buildings coming to life, a mechanical cat suit capable of superhuman feats, and a gigantic truck full of French salad dressing. It’s a silly story, but one worth enjoying.

While it is true that this graphic novel was intended for small children, you can also enjoy it if you’re an avid pet lover like me. The Petey clone’s innocent antics, Dog Man’s cheerful nature, and even the minor role characters bring out the warm and fuzzy feelings you’d expect from animal literature. My favorite cute moments from the book include putting Lil’ Petey to bed, giving him a bath, and Dog Man bouncing all over the police chief like a real dog. You know what? Why don’t we just give the entire cast of this graphic novel one big cuddle-huggle. Good or evil, they’ve all earned a special place in my heart for the sweetness they bring!

As happy-go-lucky as this book is, it’s not without the occasional sad moment. I can pinpoint three different parts of this book that strike me as heartbreaking: Dog Man’s sad expressions when the police chief tells him he’s a “bad dog”, Petey becoming frustrated with his “kid” and leaving him in a box alone on the streets, and Lil’ Petey drawing picture books for his special friends. Don’t be too turned off by these tear-jerking scenes, because they’ll easily renew your love for animals everywhere. If you’ve got a little kitty or puppy at home, give him or her extra cuddles and pettings to show them how much you care.

Enough with the tears of sadness. How about some tears of happiness for a change? The mechanical cat suit Petey builds for his son is called the 80 Hexatron Droid. If you shorten that name to an acronym, it’s called 80-HD. Say that ten times fast and clap your hands like an audience at a golf tournament. Oh, and one of the buildings that comes to life? It’s an oatmeal factory called Holland Oats. Kids today might not understand that reference, but an older member of their family will. The jokes and puns in this story won’t make you hee-haw with laughter, but they’ll bring the world’s goofiest grin to your face.

If you like cute and cuddly stories with happy endings and golf clap humor, buy a copy of this graphic novel. Whether you have children of your own, you are a child, or you’re just a guy who loves sweetness, you’ll love what the pages have to offer. Don’t let anybody tell you you’re too old for this kind of material. What matters most is what you love, not what anybody else’s standards dictate. I love this story and that’s why it deserves a passing grade.