Good day, class. As you know, I usually use this blog space to deliver lectures on a wide range of topics -- religion, current events, canine suffrage, etc. I am a renaissance pug, after all. But today's lesson will be a little different. Today, I have a homework assignment for you. Yes, you! Stop slouching in your desk trying to hide, averting your eyes so you won't get called on. This assignment is required for everyone.
In this creative writing exercise, you are to post a comment detailing a completely fictional memory of me rescuing you. It can be a physical rescue (from piranhas, for example). Or it can be a spiritual rescue. Or any other kind of rescue you can think of; let your creativity know no bounds. My bravery is limited only by your imagination.
After grading this assignment, I may use the top submissions in a promotional brochure to be sent to the Nobel Prize selection committee.
8 comments:
I was trapped in a large glass case, left for dead by the Joker. Water was quickly pouring in, and without my utility belt, it seemed hopeless. That's when Ayatollah Mugsy came crashing through the glass, turban-first. He saved me from drowning and allowed me to foil the Joker's nefarious plot. The ayatollah is the real super hero.
When I was a puppy I was kidnapped by an evil band of ferrets. They were going to collect the stench molecules from my farts and use them to make a massive stink bomb. I didn't want this to happen so I went on a hunger strike. I was getting weaker and weaker. Only my nighttime crumb foraging was keeping me alive. But then Mugsy arrived and foiled their plan. He popped the stink bomb, defeated the ferrets and brought me a cheeseburger. I will never be able to repay you Mugsy.
My dear sweet Mugsy, the day we met is not one that I'll soon forget. I was sitting alone at the Starbucks in south Tulsa one day, crying because I felt so lost. Was there NO one out there that loved me? I felt there was something missing in my life. After what seemed like an eternity trying to figure things out on my own I looked over and who should I see coming out of the next door PetSmart, but you. The sun appeared as a halo around your head. I knew at that moment that there WAS more to life. For months I listened and watched as you taught me about the real meaning of life. I am forever in your debt for saving me from a pugless life. Thank you.
A menacing 4-year-old in a pink bike helmet was riding toward my home. The streamers on the handlebars of her purple bike waved threateningly in the wind. Ayatollah Mugsy bravely barked at the young villian, who passed the house without incident only through the bravery of everyone's favorite pug religious leader.
I had a dream... a dream in which I went to a dog park. All the big dogs were picking on me, because I was the only puppy. Then you came. You gave the big dogs a speech. You spoke a dialect, that I could not comprehend. All the dogs bowed their head as they listened to your speech about all things big and little, and they asked for forgiveness. I never felt small after that. You gave me strength, Ayatollah Mugsy, the strength to believe that I am bigger than I am. I bow my head to you, oh teacher. Thank you and your readings.
Top of the Mornin' to you Mugsy
I hope your mommy gave you something green to chew on for St. Patty's Day.
I plan to post my short story soon. I promise it'll be jam packed with swash buckling action, mystery and adventure that Speilberg or Ron Howard would jump at the opertunity to direct it's film adaptation. Right now, it needs a little more work before I can premiere the script to the public.
Better late than never.
Brody
Rabbi Jake was attending a Spring Break retreat, but offers the following for late consideration:
I was busily preparing for the onslaught of visitors my annual Fall Canine Friendship Conference in Oklahoma. Our most prominent visitor was to be the Ayatollah Mugsy. We had been acquaintances since puppyhood. Notice I did not say friends, for my insecurities and distrust of anyone outside my immediate family made our first few visits truly uncomfortable for all. After all, he was the street-smart pup from the Dallas ghetto and I was a naïve little ball of fur. But time had mellowed my distrust, and Mugsy and I developed a relationship of mutual respect. The Pug Ministries ARF (Armed Revolutionary Forces) warned me that there had been an increase in chatter among forces that might threaten our conference. ARF even suggested that an assassination plot against me was possible. I took the news lightly, but the ARF manned all entrances and sniff-checked all guests. At the end of the first day, I needed some quiet, meditative time. A solitary walk around the area lakes was perfect. The full moon made the path easy to follow and I stopped to check pee-mail every few yards. As I approached a wooded area, I was startled by a swooshing noise from overhead. I whipped around in time to see three large shadows sail across the face of the moon. A large Canadian goose hit me broadside and I tumbled down the slope to the edge of the lake. Before I could spring to my feet, the geese had pinned me to the ground. One hissed “Death to America and to Jewish canines.” I have had several scuffles with geese, but these were no ordinary geese. They silently worked in unison to tie my legs like a rodeo calf. I realized that they intended for me to swim with the fishes. As the geese started to push my bound body toward the lake, I heard a rustling noise. A lightning-fast streak of fawn colored fur emerged from the bushes. It was Ayatollah Mugsy in full BatPug attire. He immediately grabbed one of the geese by the neck. The other two geese abandoned me and focused on the intruder, squawking and hissing. Feathers flew everywhere. The din alerted Brody and the rest of the ARF at their entrance posts. By the time the ARF arrived, Mugsy had all three geese pinned to the ground. ARF personnel untied me and I limped up the bank as other ARF forces marched the three geese away. Mugsy had disappeared. I next saw him at his morning prayers and tried to thank him, but he only smiled. I never knew what happened to the assassins; but noted that the food pantry at Pug Life Ministries was able to feed a record number of indigent families that Thanksgiving.
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