The doctor pulled his fingers back to his person and stuck them in his mouth with a, “Yummy, pudding.” Then he wiped them on his pants. “I’m Doctor Happledappleblap,” he announced loud enough to fill the whole room, “and these are puppies, not dogs. It’s part of my breakthrough therapy, Tarpies. I’m going to get a Nobel Prize for it, Vernan.” The gas that escaped his body sounded like a deflating balloon. “Now, where is my clipboard?” Absentmindedly he added, “how else am I going to be able to label you correctly?”
The free puppy came up to him and tried to climb on his lap for pudding. It smelled the man and then turned right back around and piddled on the carpet in the corner. The doctor smiled smugly. “Puppies and carp are the key to all brain-balancey-stuff. Are you sure you don’t want any fish?” He held out the plate again, “I kept it alive in my bathtub for a week before killing it.”
Happledappleblap’s mouth puckered up and he looked like he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He had no idea that his serious face made him look like he was constipated.
~Raging and quivering female mass of hormones and tosser of Dark Side Cookies™ (trade marked by Etoile)