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The thieves took everything except the dog. Of course there was a good reason for it. The dog was armed.
“What the hell were you thinking? Our stuff. They took all our stuff. What kind of watchdog are you, anyway?”
The small, cigar smoking mutt in the body armor took another pull from his fifth of Jack Daniels. “Back off, man. I have the mother of all hangovers and I’m in a really bad mood.”
“A little hair of the dog, eh?”
“It’s too early in the morning for puns.”
“It’s dinnertime and I just got home from work to find my place has been cleaned out.”
“So what? You’ve got homeowner’s insurance, right?”
“I’m calling the cops. Ditch the clothes, the booze, and the miniature assault rifle, so I don’t have to explain you when they get here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be passed out in the doghouse by then.”
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