“OWWWW CAREFUL WITH THE COAT, THAT’S DESIGNER…”

I whined while the guards were manhandling me like I was a piece of meat. I’ve been in Guard Dog for one week and suddenly I’m being thrown around like a sack of potatoes. Can’t a guy get some human decency around here? Sheesh. The guards just kept pushing me and calling me a criminal, when correction, I’m just lazy. A criminal would commit crimes, I, however, just don’t return what I BORROW. But no, let’s all discriminate against the man who can’t grow a beard. It’s definitely my lack of facial hair, I know it.

The guards pushed me out of the car when I just KERPLUNKED into the ground. It’s always the FACE. Why is it always my face that suffers?! I felt like I had to rip my body off the road before I could push myself up. My hands brushed down my clothes before I felt a tug on the leash that brought me face to face with who was probably my master. My cheeks flared up from the close proximity… and maybe a bit from the fact that this person was already trying to put me in my place.

“Woah…”