Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Wednesday, on Which My Dog Decides to Blog

Yo. Tanker here. Mom's busy. Well, she took grandma to the doctor [a-gain] so I'm taking over this little screen with the funny keys attached to it.

So, here's the deal. Mom wrote me into this first book of hers, called Royal Street, only she had it all screwed up. Her memory, it ain't so good, you hear what I'm sayin'?

First, she called me Gandalf in the book, and my name is Tanker McNamara Johnson. I'm named either after some cartoon character or a professional wrestler or some bigass boat, depending on how much wine mom's had to drink. When we're alone, she tells me it was the wrestler Tank Abbott. But I ain't seein' it, you know?

The Other Tank Abbott
And then in the book she made me yellow. Freakin' yellow! Like a pansy dog! She made some excuse as to how there was a big black dog in some book about a potter named Harry. Made no freakin' sense. I mean, mom's pretty cool and all and she gives me lots of snacks, but...freakin' yellow?

Goofy face


Then she makes me goofy. And I'm a heap-big macho guy. You how what I mean? Okay, maybe my tongue is spotted and hangs out the side of my mouth every once in a while--every guy has a quirk. And I have this face I make just for her 'cause it makes her laugh and then she gives me more treats. But that's like a private thing, y'know?

So, when you read Royal Street, remember what I really look like. And that I'll be like crazy old dude by the time it comes out so I might not care if you think I'm goofy. Just remember I ain't yellow.

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