Next time I see a woman at the store walking a small dog I’m going to grab that leash and run so her canine-rat bounces along the ground behind me like a tetherball. Like a mountain Vietnamese I’m going to skewer that little shitzuahua on a spit and grub him down like a tailgate party kebab. High five.
Whatever mammal you decide to bring to a public establishment better be your child or your service animal. If they’re one and the same, even better. I was told that it’s within the bounds of the law to ask whether an animal is a service animal or not but it’s unlawful to ask what service their animal provides. Wha-?
I’m going to petition that a monkey in a diaper to be my service animal so whenever I see someone with a little dog in a purse or on their arm in the video store line, my pint-sized primate is going to launch doo-doo balls like hot mortars and I’m going to stand and laugh and laugh. When the store clerk asks me why I have a monkey with bowels that bomb such cute little doggies, I’m going to tell her it’s my public service animal.
And all those who hold cell phones to their heads while changing lanes, those who use words like “LOL” in a speaking sentence, those who yell at their kids as if they were kids themselves, and those who thrive on the misfortune of others (politicians, brokers, bankers, doctors, lawyers, etc.) all get doo-doo bombed by my monkey in Huggies.