Kandi wasn’t looking great when morning came. She’d been drunk long before she dropped the bottle and Boo initiated his plan. Thus, she’d gone further into Planet Alcohol than usual.
She was wandering around in dirty pink fuzzy slippers. Her shirt had a picture of a fish riding a bicycle but you couldn’t see it because it was inside out. Her eyes were bloodshot and her head was topped with a rat’s nest of knotted hair, a failed home dye experiment, and kale chips from the pile she’d used as a pillow last night. Boo wasn’t concerned, she looked like that most mornings.
Kandi, who hadn’t properly rehydrated or eaten, continued suffering. Boo (who’d imbibed a bit of the rum himself) wisely drank water and munched a few bits of dog kibble. A few hours later he was right as rain. He had things to manage this afternoon and he wanted to be ready. Meanwhile, Kandi laid on the couch; slowly turning to mulch.
The doorbell rang, interrupting Kandi’s moaning. It was the delivery! Boo had been waiting for it ever since he started dominoes falling last night. He paced to the door eagerly. He wasn’t sure how the next few minutes would play out. Kandi looked at the door and did nothing; it was too far.
The bell rang again. Boo was frantic. This had to happen. He needed it to happen! Every day he was miserable and he needed options! He barked. Kandi covered her head with a stuffed animal to block the sound. She muttered something about getting a cat and burrowed deeper into the dirty laundry on the couch. With her view blocked, Boo took action. He jumped up and, with paws frantically scratching at the door (oh what he wouldn’t do for opposable thumbs!), managed to unlock the door. Then, with immense concentration, he clamped his jaws around the doorknob and twisted. It wasn’t easy but it had to be done.
The door swung open and Boo grinned a happy doggy smile. The delivery guy, standing there with a clipboard in hand, grinned too. Men and dogs, they belong together. Boo looked at his owner, rumpled and whimpering, on the couch. If only he could leave this place and go with the delivery guy! Boo looked out on the street. The man had a truck! Boo had never ridden in a truck. It seemed like Boo belonged in a truck.
The delivery guy stepped forward. He noticed Kandi’s foot emerging from a pile of stuffed animals, dirty laundry, and crushed kale chips. He addressed the foot.
“Ma’am? I’m here to deliver your television.”
“I’m no ma’am. I’m a goddamn womyn. You misogynist ape!” The foot retorted.
He sighed. This workday he’d delivered video game systems to nerds in basements, a computer to a poet who talked backwards like Yoda, a 3D printer for a lunatic who was experimenting with making penis shaped bongs, and he’d had to step over a snoring drunk woman on the front walk to get here. Now this… a huge TV to a bitchy feminist’s foot. Absent mindedly, he scratched Boo’s ear.
Boo was in ecstasy. The delivery man was awesome. He knew just where to scratch. The man smelled like workboots; a mixture of leather and responsibility. He probably ate steak and could read! Boo wondered how he’d wound up with such an unsuitable owner.
“Just sign here.” The man held the electronic clipboard toward a stuffed unicorn in roughly the right location for a head.
“I didn’t order anything.” Said the unicorn.
The delivery man was used to this too. Stoners always try to back out of purchases that they made when they were high. He glanced at the dog. It was a good dog. How did this freak have such a good dog? “Of course,” he smiled, “I’m sure nobody at this address used your e-mail account and your credit card to place the order. Luckily, we have all the information on file. I’m sure we can work it all out… in court perhaps?”
“Didn’t order anything…” The unicorn whined.
“And you remember last night completely?”
A hand emerged from the pile somewhere south of the unicorn and north of the foot. “Where do I sign?”
The hand scribbled on the touchscreen. It was nothing like a signature but that didn’t matter. The delivery man noticed the dog looked guilty and patted it reassuringly. What he didn’t know is that Boo had caused this. He’d managed to login to Kandi’s laptop and place the order; all by tapping keys with a pencil clamped in his jaws. (Hint: Kandi’s password was “grrrlpower”.)
“It says I’m supposed to set it up.” The delivery man explained. Kandi didn’t respond. In 15 minutes the device was installed, plugged in, and hooked to various gadgets which had been ordered at the same time. He noticed the dog watching him intently. It was a little unnerving.
The delivery man turned on the TV to test it, switched it to mute when the unicorn groaned, and then, as his sole protest against a world gone mad, set the channel to Fox News before shutting it off. He set the remote on the section of the coffee table with the least gooey spilled rum, gathered the packaging and took it with him. He gave Boo one last friendly pat on the head before he walked out the door, closing it behind him. Boo never saw him again.
Unseen by the snoring shamble on the couch, Boo picked up the remote and hid it. Having negotiated his first step in a life of crime, Boo was content.
If you’ve ever blacked out while a Labrador retriever ordered home electronics with your e-mail account, feel free to click below.