Autumn Scene reminds me of this. Found on a Malamute web site. Enjoy!!
Starving big dog Dog: I am starving. Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone. Dog: STARVING. Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving. Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE. Me: I am now ignoring you. Dog: STARVING. Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving. Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.
[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]
[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]
Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing? Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there* Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom* Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet* Dog: See? STARVING. Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO. Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever. Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes. Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up. Me: Yes. Yes, you were. Dog: By people who starved me. Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again. Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*
[There is a pause.]
[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very, very quietly.]
Me: Oh, for the love of GOD. Me: *heads off to the kitchen* Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato. Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout. Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just.. um... a birthmark. Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato? Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato. Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES. Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted* Dog: *attempts to look thwarted* Dog: *does not succeed, because his tail is wagging so hard that small cyclones are forming in the kitchen* Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*
[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]
[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]
Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO. Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?
Me: THE ONE IN YOUR MOUTH. Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here. Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan* Me: Let us say no more about this. Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!
[I attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]
[Some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]
[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]
Me, bonking head on desk: Arrrgh. Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato? Dog, smugly: I have my ways. Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN. Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH. Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house* Me: *lets dog out* Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.
[I watch him go about his business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]
[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]
Me, wearily: What NOW? Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because his mouth is full* Me: Okay. Fine. Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash* Me: WE JUST WON'T HAVE ANY ROOT VEGETABLES ANYMORE. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY? Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me. Me: ARRRRRRRRGH.
[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]
Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life? Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me? Me: EVERYONE GO TO THE BEDROOM AND STAY THERE. EAT NOTHING. Dog: Actually, I feel...um... not so good. Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*
[Unfortunate details ensue.]
Some time later: Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?
Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy! Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy. Me: I need a lobotomy.
And that, my friends - and anyone else who made it through that - is What Kind of Day It Has Been.
FRICKIN' SWEET POTATOES. ARRRRGH.
From: Patricia
Date: 09/09/2007
This was cute! I saw the ending coming, but it was still delightful to read. Thanks for posting it.