The Potted Calamity

Uh, hey Doc it’s me. It’s Larry.

Sorry I’m, uh, calling so late but I’m kinda running in the red, you know? Like, my engine’s running a bit too hard for the car or something. Wow, that sounds bad. Uh, don’t worry it’s nothing bad.

Well…nothing bad yet.

It’s not like last time, I swear. Metatron hasn’t spoken to me in 3 months and I’ve been good on my meds. I even met a girl.

Yeah, yeah, I know right? She’s cute and nice and likes me, so I’ve made sure to stay on the straight and narrow.

Just one problem. I can’t remember if I took them today or not, and I’m out until tomorrow morning. I mean I dropped it in the sink, but I could swear I stopped it before it went down the drain. I just can’t remember, it’s kind of fuzzy.

You see, I’m in the red because of her dog. She asked me to take him to the vet, and he hasn’t spoken to me in the voice of Satan yet, so I figured why not. Mr. Muggles has been cool.

Before we got out of the car he licked me right across the face, right up under my nose. You know how I can’t really take drool, just sort of not…just a sec

(Softly) 1-2-3, 1-2-3,

Ok, I’m back. How long is this message anyway? Whatever, the dog licked me so I was already ramped up a bit. But then I saw some shit Dr. Ferguson. Like, send me back to RiversEdge shit.

I held Mr. Muggles as we walked in, and it’s funny, I can remember the click as the door closed behind me. Sounded, I don’t know, heavy.

Everybody looked cool. Everybody smiled. Even the chick with the Great Dane that I couldn’t look at because she was short and dumpy and the dog wasn’t. You know I can’t take stuff that’s…what’d you call it? Incongress? Nevermind.

There was this other dude though. Like just there. He looked like he was holding a dachshund at first, no lie. But then that damn door clicked and his eye drooped. No, not his eye. His eyelid. It sagged like it was melting.

And the dachshund? Yeah, not a dachshund. Not even close. You ever see a sewer line with the outlet pipe laid the wrong way against the flow?

No?

Imagine a geyser of shit. Now give it eyes. And let everybody around it come up and nuzzle it or kiss it. When they walk away it smiles with no mouth and they have shit smeared all over their hands and faces.

So. Yeah.

Can you, uh, call me back as soon as you can? I left without seeing the vet, and Mr. Muggles was just happy to leave, but I can’t go home yet. I think it winked at me.

*Please deposit fifty cents to place a call. Otherwise please hang up the phone.

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