Boy, this piece of crap story could never have been written by some
purveyor of really good taste like Biff Thelmus Bonglemeister III
Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away--farther than you can
imagine, farther even than the meaning of life, the meaning of God, the
meaning of those little zits you get on your eyebrows--anyway, long,
long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there was this guy who wanted to
take over the Galaxy. He was born into a troubled, broken, abusive,
alcoholic, post-Vietnam-victimization-syndrom infested, downtrodden,
downright shitty home. He was raised first by a mother who beat him
around the head and neck with beer bottles, until she finally tired of
the game and dumped him into a trash can, where he was found by a pimp
and raised as a hustler. Eventually, he arose to a position of pimp
himself and plotted to take over the world. Eventually he managed to
cause trillions of dollars of damage per day, destroy half of the
Galaxy's resources in five weeks, and fucked more people in a day than
the Marquis de Sade did in his lifetime--all before joining PTL and
preaching on Sundays on channel 38.
But this is not the story of this preverted man, it's the story of his
dog, Millie. Millie was a son of a bitch, as you might expect. Now
one might ask, "why the hell are we hearing about some guy's dog" but
rest assured THERE IS A REASON FOR ALL OF THIS. Anyway, Millie was
raised in a friendly, good home, but one day when his master was taking
him for a walk, Millie was hit with temporary insanity and bit him.
"You son of a bitch!" yells the guy... Millie wagged his tail. He
liked recognition. So the guy says, "die, die, die," pulls out a
Magnum .44, and blasts Millie through the head. Millie falls over on
the pavement bleeding, and his master drags him over to the bushes and
leaves him there, and nobody every heard of Millie from then on, the
guy told everyone he had been run over by a truck.
Anyway, now it's not so long ago, and this asshole guy who shot his dog
is ruling the Galaxy and getting some every hour. So he's just getting
dressed, ready to make some more decisions and kill some more peasants,
jerk as this guy is. So someone limps into the chamber with a
trenchcoat. "Hey, you pervert," says the ruler of the Galaxy,
"geddadamyroom!" So the stranger drops his trenchcoat, and it's Millie
the dog! "Ruff ruff ruff," he says, and pulls out a Magnum 4.4, and
blasts a hole through the building taking the poor ruler of the Galaxy
with him.
And so Millie married the concubine and lived happily ever after. The
moral of the story is "don't shoot your dog"
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