My life: A vision of vengeance

Previous installments of this autobiographical series are available in the right-hand rail, under the heading "Mugsy's Biography."

Chapter X
The trap had been set hours earlier. I had my girlfriend at the time, pop singer Mariah Carey, call Galvez. "I'll be lonely when they send my pug-man away to prison," she told him. "You wanna get together tonight?" Galvez was always interested in taking what was mine, and he'd had his eye on Mariah for months. It was an offer he couldn't refuse. Mariah's cell phone rang while they were at dinner, and she told Galvez that it was her uncle. He had asked her to pick something up at his auto salvage yard nearby. "It'll only take five minutes," she told Galvez playfully.

And now they were here. The black Mercedes slowly crept up to the salvage yard's main office. Mariah jumped out of the convertible and skipped toward the door. "I'll be back in a sec, baby," she said, looking over her shoulder as she spoke. Then she disappeared into the office. I sprang into action, using the salvage yard's crane to position a massive container over Galvez's car. He looked up, startled. But it was too late for Galvez. I pulled back on a cable, causing the contents of the container to spill out. Hundreds of gallons rained down on Galvez, filling his car and pooling on the ground around it. Then I manipulated the crane's controls some more, causing my second ghastly ingredient to fall down on Galvez.

After descending from the crane, I strode toward my old nemesis. He was coughing violently. Feathers flew forth from his mouth as he struggled for breath. Finally, he cleared his throat, but he remained dazed. The warm tar coated his entire body. The feathers clung to him. Vengeance was sweet! But I wasn't finished yet. "Mugsy? Is that you?" he said, straining to turn his head. "I'm sorry, man. I never meant to betray you." I put on thick gloves and boots as I walked up behind him, not wanting to get any tar on my fur. I clamped my paws around his neck, ready to deliver the coup de grace. "Mugsy, please ..." he whimpered. But I wasn't in the mood for mercy. A loud "SNAP!" echoed throughout the salvage yard, letting all within earshot know that pug justice had just been delivered -- with extreme prejudice.

Then my cell phone rang. It was Johnnie Cochran, delivering urgent news about my trial. After hanging up, I walked around to the front of the Mercedes to admire my handiwork. There was Galvez, tarred and feathered, straining to see over the cone that I had snapped around his neck moments earlier. "Galvez," I said gruffly, "now you know what happens when you mess with the pug."

After giving Mariah the all-clear to leave the office, we were on our way to the courthouse. We had 20 minutes to get there. The verdict was in.

To be continued