by Michael Price
Yeah, that was me that peed on your feet this morning, but I don’t care. I really don’t because, see, I’m a dog. Kinda cute, perhaps, but not always the most sanitary beast, if you know what I mean.
Did I happen to mention that I don’t care? My memory is kinda bad because, like I said, I’m a dog.
My mother, that… she was such a pain in the ass. And nobody knows more about pain in the ass than me.
She figured she was doing me a favor by bringing me into this fucking world. Hell, it’s boring. Not a whole lot goin’ on around here. Just eat, sleep and… well, you know.
Oh, and by the way, you should probably get somebody to clean that up over there because, again… I just don’t care.
Ya know, in the back of my mind, it seems like at one point—like when I was a pup, maybe—that I used to care. But that was a long time ago and, ya know, with the memory thing the way it is…
You may want to consider moving your feet.
See? There…I cared.
Widely published in literary journals, Michael Price has been writing fiction for over 30 years. He earned his BA in Theater from the University of Minnesota in 1980 and performed his own one-man one-act play “No Change of Address” to considerable acclaim at the 2011 MN Fringe Festival.