The bitches on my block. A bad bit by a boy.

I swears that 8/10 people on this block have a dog. And they are so small that i assume they all come in the cereal boxes from the shelves of Ralphs on Rodeo. There are a couple of poodles on the street too, surely too big for conventional sugar promotions but being as there is NO way a person would honestly want a poodle after spending oh...22 seconds with one. I'll just have to assume that Audi had some eurotrash giveaway back in August.

Asides from when the dogs on my block somehow (all 46 of em), sense a coyote and go apeshits in synchronicity - the bitches on my block are all degenerates.  At first i wasnt so comfortable with disliking every dog on my block, but they wake me up before the sun rises and thats pure evil. Feeling like every dog can be taught, I knew it was right to blame their families. Hell, most problems stem from home life. Ya know, life in Beverly Hills isn't all sunshine and buttercups behind doors (even if a butler closes them for you).

Well, my assumption was half right. The dogs aren't kosher and when i was changing the poopy plywood of my gerbil cage I noticed that documented in the newspaper which lines my gerbil cage. The Times (the real ones out of NYC), has the not so secret spin into why those inbred pups that are terrorizing my mornings. Yappety-yap

PS did anyone notice that this whole bit was an attempt at building up a story and then closing off with a side remark about owning a gerbil which is far more ridiculous than owning a dog? I've got to figure out how to work this stuff better.

I cant wait to do an open mike at a comedy shack. Im going to bomb it on stage like when i sit on abandoned sand castles at the beach (pure self righteous fun).