You growl into the receiver to intimidate the dognapping scum.

“I don’t give money to dingleberries,” you scream. “Dingleberries like yourself!

“Dingleberries?” the kidnapper replies. “Are you in 6th grade? We could kill your dog right now. In fact, maybe we should, fartypants.”

“Wait, don’t hurt Rottweiler! I’ll give you the $8,000.”

“We only wanted five–” the kidnapper says, before correcting himself, “Er, I mean, yes, $8,000. Or else.”

The next evening, you drop the money off in the ransom tree. Moments later, out of a bush your dog comes running out. She licks your face, and you lick hers. You’ve never been so relieved. A guy dressed entirely in black wearing a ski mask also runs out of the bush. Running in a ski mask in the middle of July? Huh. Hmmmmmm. Oh well, takes all kinds.


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