I was robbing an apartment on Tujunga, hauling the television to my van, when I tripped over the cord, fell on my side, and smacked my head on the carpet. That’s when I met the dog. It was like a white little furry rat with big black eyes.
“Goood doggie,” I whispered. Not that it was a really dangerous or scary-looking dog, but it was just a couple feet from my face and I figured those little teeth could still do some damage.
“Gooo~gah!” I cried as the dog darted toward my mug. Not that it was a girly scream or anything. Just a little high is all. The dog swiped its tongue up my stubbly cheek before my scream scared it away. Some guard dog. Not that I was complaining.
“Hi, kiddo,” I said and its tail started wagging again. Dumb mutt. “You’re a good dog, aren’t ya?” It leaned in again and I scratched its head. It was actually kinda cute, with its little scrawny paws and its clueless face. Not that I sympathized with it or anything. I’m a beefcake myself, you know? I just have a soft spot for things smaller than me. I’m a big ol’ softie. An angry softie. With tattoos.
So, anyways. After my near-mauled experience, I saw that I had a second chance. Another lease on life. I hoisted myself up, gripped the cord in my teeth, and carried the T.V. out with my giant forearms. That would be my last stolen television. From now on, I figured I was going to start kidnapping pets.