Point: Bad Dog!
By Nathan Jordan
What the!? Henry get out here! What is this? WHAT IS THIS? Bad dog! Bad, bad dog. Yeah, go slink away under the bed.
Why do I have to come home after a long day of work only to find my apartment a complete disaster? You shredded my new book, and I was only halfway through it. And for the last time, my slipper is not something that should be made love to.
Oh, and look at this! Up until now you’ve shown no interest in sharing domestic responsibilities, yet today of all days, you’ve decided to open the cabinet and pull out all of the Tupperware onto the kitchen floor. Hey! What’s that wet spot on the rug?
Bad dog! I don’t know what has gotten into you lately. I thought I taught you better than this. Well guess what? No treat for you! You can stay under the bed for all I care. A**hole.
Counterpoint: F**K YOU!
By Henry Bean
The only reason I’m under this bed is so you can’t see the big smile on my face.
While you’re out making burritos at your so-called job, I’m stuck in this sh***y apartment with nothing to do but read. Gardening for Dummies? That’s all you leave me? No wonder I shredded it. What kind of single man reads about gardening anyway? Child molesters, that’s who.
The Tupperware was a nice touch, I think. I’m not interested in domestic responsibilities; I’m interested in making statements. Until we increase the treat handouts around here, you’re going to start finding worse things in your kitchen, that I can assure you. Exhibit A: the pee on the kitchen rug. Although, I admit that was an accident. Maybe instead of coming home and masturbating to Pornhub, you should take me on a few more walks.
You want me to behave? Bring me home a squirrel. They’re out there, you know. Taunting me. It’s bullsh*t. I don’t even have a fair chance, because of that window between me and Mr. Twitchy Tail. I just want to be friends, you know, friends with benefits. Those benefits include being able to eat each other. Instead, I’m forced to take my aggression out on your slipper. So just bring me a live squirrel, and not one of those lame-ass stuffed ones. Until then, I be bonin’ all ya’ll footware.
Who’s the a**hole now?