Buddy: Watcha doin’, amigo?
Big Buddy: Nothing much, just looking at some NBA box scores before bed.
Buddy: Can you go back to the comments on that last story about me? The one where you exaggerate how I wait for you by the door…
Big Buddy: How exactly was that story exaggerated?
Buddy: I don’t wait for you by the door when you leave. I merely take a nap in proximity to the door. There’s a difference.
Big Buddy: Uh, okay then.
Buddy: Just read the comments!
Big Buddy: Okay. Wow, this one is very complementary: “Buddy is the most handsome tabby alive. Stunningly beautiful! Those eyes…”
Buddy: I like that one. More!
Big Buddy: Okay here’s one that says “He’s an absolutely beautiful cat,” and the next comment reads “What a sweetheart!”
Buddy: It’s true, isn’t it? I’m almost too handsome and charming. More!
Big Buddy: All right, this one says “Buddy has exquisite eyes.” Here’s another that says “What a gorgeous cat!” Oh, and you’ll like this: “Buddy is quite the hottie!”
Buddy: That’s what I’m talking about! People are finally recognizing my good looks! More!
Big Buddy: All right, what do we have here? “Buddy is a vain little jerk. I bet he rolls around in his own poop!”
Buddy: WHAT?! Who wrote that?
Big Buddy: Someone named LosGatos13. Pfffft. Wow. Listen to this one: “What a fat bastard. The police would throw him in jail, but he’d just eat his way out.” Ouch. Oh, this one from ChickMagnet217 is even worse: “Buddy is so fat, I took a photo of him last year and it’s still printing.”
Buddy: WHAT?!? Let me see that!
Big Buddy: Is that steam coming out of your ears?
Buddy: Buy us a plane ticket, now!
Big Buddy: Uh, why?
Buddy: Because you and I are going to fly from the internet to find this ChickMagnet217 and beat him up!
Big Buddy: You weigh 10 pounds. What are you doing to do, shred his ankles?
Buddy: No, I’m going to wait for you to beat him up, then I’m going to jump on top of him and slap him silly!
Big Buddy: That’s an assault charge, little dude. If I’m buying a plane ticket it’s gonna be to someplace warm where they put little umbrellas in cocktails, not to some nerd’s house.
Buddy: I’m sure they have umbrellas and cocktails wherever ChickMagnet217 lives. This is important. I order you, as my servant, to buy the ticket!
Big Buddy: No.
Buddy: Buy it!
Big Buddy: Nope. Calm down. Go take a nap or something.
FOUR DAYS LATER…
[There’s a knock at the door. I open it to find two unamused police detectives standing in the apartment hallway.]
Big Buddy: What can I do for you, officers?
Detective: I’m looking for a Buddy…
Big Buddy: You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid…
[Detective holds up a turkey-stained envelope in an evidence bag, with ChickMagnet217’s address and my return address written in sloppy crayon.)
Detective: Are you familiar with the Interstate Fecal Transport Act of 1972? It’s a federal offense to mail shit across state lines, punishable by up to five years in prison.
Big Buddy: Could you hold that thought a second? Thanks.
Buddy! Come here, Bud, these nice men are from the cat food company and you’ve just won a years’ supply of Savory Turkey Entree!
[Buddy comes tearing toward the door and skids to a halt, looking up at me and the detectives.]
Buddy: A whole year of turkey? Wow!
Big Buddy: Yup! You’ll just have to go with these two gentlemen here. They’ll take you back to the, uh, pet food headquarters to sign some paperwork for your turkey. Bye, Bud!