Thursday, September 2, 2010

So, Who's Riding The Mexican Train?

It was late in the morning one perfectly average summer's day, and Rusty the cat was laying in a patch of sunlight that was streaming in through the glass door. His eyes were shut and his tail twitched lazily to a rhythm that only he knew the beat to. As he lay there absorbing the rays, Tank the dog walked up next to him.
"Heya Rusty," said Tank, "you awake?"
Rusty remained silent.
"You awake?"
More silence.
"You awake?"
Rusty sighed irritably.
"What do you want, Tank?" he asked without opening his eyes.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Trying to enjoy life," groaned Rusty.
"Butchoo aren't doing nothin'," Tank said confused.
"If you knew that, why did you ask what I was doing?"
"When I want to enjoy life," Tank continued, ignoring the cat, "I play fetch."
"Tank, you still haven't realized that you're supposed to bring the ball back."
"I don't think you get the game, Rusty. But it's okay 'cause yer a cat."
"Do you have a point, Tank?" asked Rusty.
"Heya Rusty?"
"Yes, Tank?"
"Wanna play?"
"No Tank," replied Rusty, still never having opened his eyes. "I'm sleeping."
"Oh okay," said Tank, and he left the cat to his sunbathing.

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