Chapter One

Mitzi keeps biting people. Well, not people, per se, but children.  My friend Evelyn reminded me last night that "Children are our future…"
Evelyn was stoked to the gills on vicodan and her canteen of Dentini (Bombay Sapphire gin, splash of vermouth, 2 sticks of Dentyne gum — her dentist recommended it. Four out of Five do, apparently) at the time, however, and may have actually said 'Drilling is our Future." or "Real Gin is our suture."
That would be more like her.

Still, the problem remains, Mitzi's biting must be addressed.  I do not need Our Future bleeding all over my carpets while the parents threaten to call lawyers.  Mitzi is a Well Bred Dog.  It pains me to say it, but if I had to lay money on my border collie or that whiny little beast byproduct with the perpetually drippy nose next door leading us into tomorrow…well, let's just say toughen up your shanks, sissy pants.


This is fiction. I'll move it over into a category on the side later.  I'm playing with the idea of a longer thing..