flashingreds...
at least that's what you said
(2004-04-15, 4:52 p.m.)
Marzetta�s a big fan of my ability to animalize people. This afternoon we turned the tables and enjoyed a bit of humanizing animals.

Her lovely female bulldog�s street name would be Snowball, and she�d be a gangbanger, bullfighter, and all-around tough-as-nails bitch. She�d just as soon spit at you as look at you.

Gumbo, the stocky, regal male bulldog, would just sit back and chuckle at the world over a glass of fine whiskey.

Fuzzy Jesus, my faux Siamese, would be a sugar daddy. He�d live in a large lavender house, perhaps a nice Queen Anne Victorian with a wraparound porch, where he�d spend his days sitting in the wicker chaise lounge on the front porch, sipping fuzzy navels, reading gay memoirs and waiting for his latest boytoy to stop by. He�d dabble at gardening, but he�d have a buff young garden boy for the hard labor, and he�d enjoy making fresh-squeezed lemonade and fancy cheese trays for the boy�s hourly break. FJ would be obsessed with outdoor sex and with bondage.

What sort of humans would your creatures be?

Ewenorker�s very good at this game. Without her permission, I give you her contributions:

Disco would live in a spacious but sparsely decorated studio (or loft) apartment, with a futon and Grateful Dead posters and only plastic dishes. She'd have a secret crush on Justin Timberlake and an addiction to Vicks Inhalers. Her parents would pay her rent. She'd drive a Volkswagon. She'd have a tattoo of a dolphin on her back left paw. She would talk really, really fast and dream of joining the Peace Corps until she realized you actually had to go to college to do that.

Chia would live in boxy little house with white walls, scratchy furniture and little light. Most of her clothing would be forest green, and flannel. She would watch Wheel of Fortune every night while eating canned green beans and questionable meat products. She would yell at the paperboy and write damning letters to the editor of the local newspaper. But deep in her closet, behind the stacks of old newspapers, she'd have an extensive teacup collection, the pieces of which she'd take out every Friday night, for cleaning and admiring and as a sparkly reminder that she hadn't always had such a hardened heart.