Hell Hound Changes History!
Then Biggy put his feathered arm around my Trixie-Mom.
Inside the house again, I decided to watch some Fox News to take my mind off of my dysfunctional family. However, my conscience was driving me mad.
"I'm losing my mind!" I whined. "My mother married a pigeon! According to that sign on television, I have to Stop Obamacare or Grandma Will Die! What is this world coming to?"
(Then, Hell Hound's proud heritage, sans pigeons, rose up before her eyes.)
"Am I not descended from Billy Goat, a member of the livestock of General Grant? Am I not the great-grand-dog of President Richard Nixon's best friend?"
(Suddenly, the image of Checkers, Richard Nixon's beloved furry Statesman popped into her mind's eye.)
"Hell Hound, my great, grand-dog, go to the White House! Confront President Obama. Save Hyde, Save the world," the ghost of Checkers chanted.
I shook my snoot in disbelief, because I had never seen an actual specter before, (not counting Scutch the Butcher- a crazy dead stray cat who lives in our attic). Checkers was instantly gone, and I was inspired! I started running to Washington D.C. (After all, politicians look yummy on television.) Ima get me some doggy snacks. I thought.
At Walmart I found the perfect disguise. The checkout girl confirmed that the hunting hat and weird glasses did not make me look too Communist.
Finally, I got to the Senate floor, and stopped to relieve myself. The humans were snarling and bug-eyed. I knew I was in the right place.
"Show me your leader," I demanded bravely, but they did not comply. Soon women in pants suits and men with toupees were pelting me and trying to pin me down. I started ripping up that place and biting heels.
In the meantime, I got some good inside gossip for my job as a contributor to the website OMG! Senator Mitch McConnell is really tough on the teeth. I cracked my fang trying to rip his socks off. (My Lady says he needs to chill; no wonder- it turns out that guy wears his pajamas under his clothes.) Nancy Pelosi's ring tone is "Iron Man." Her phone was tasty. When she caught me under the table she started beating me. She was wearing a big ring with her image engraved that left an impression on the top of my head. (Write that down, PETA. I can forward pics.)
The last politician I chewed was Senator Robert Byrd. He was playing Sudoku under the table. He tasted just like chicken. That's when the Secret Service dragged me out of there and handed me over to the Homeland Security Department. They locked me in a dog pen in the coat closet.
Are they kidding me? These people better get on the ball before something bad happens to our country again. Every terrorist knows that dog pens are no match for trained Hell Hounds. I just ate my way through the plastic floor. That's when I realized how hungry I felt and I noticed a stack of papers placed on a low shelf. The cover sheet read: