City lifestyle

Its been mildly amusing at Uncle Vinnie's (What's-her-name and her whatever boyfriend are in New Zealand and this guy is looking after us - he has no idea what he's in for).

On the first morning it went something like this: Uncle Vinnie (UV) looks into the cage. "Oh my God - so much poo!" He cleans it all up - doing the kind of diligent job you'd expect from a novice. He makes breakfast. He comes back for a final check before going to work.

"Oh my God..."

Yep. Twice as much poo. "Where the hell did all this poo come from??" he screams. Being inexperienced, he cleans it all up again, then rushes off to work late.

"Oh dear," sighs Dumb-fuck, after UV has left, "Its almost too easy."

"Yes, its sad really."

"Like shooting fish in a barrel."

"He'll be insane by the end of the week, poor fuck."

"Shall I do it or will you?"

"We can both do it," I reply, "Let the defecating begin!"

You should have seen his face when he got back from work :P

City pig

What's-her-name and her totally not inspiring boyfriend are going on holiday to New Zealand.

That means Dumb-fuck and I have to stay with "Uncle Vinnie".

I'm like - "Uncle Vinnie??" WTF? I've met the guy, OK, and if that primate fucker is my uncle then my familly have got a hell of a lot of explaining to do - I mean I've heard of inter-species love but this is just sick.

We pigs can't go to New Zealand because of quarantine rules - well fuck you, you sheep-shagging Kiwi retards - you people are so backwards anyway I'd have an easier time seeing you with my butt - so, as it were, shove it.

Dumb-fuck noticed all the preparations.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We're going to stay with Uncle Vinnie for a week."

"Who?"

"UNCLE FUCKING VINNIE!!!!" I shouted.

"You mean - you and I are related?!" gasped Dumb-fuck in utter horror.

"Shut your snout - he's just some guy they know in the city they somehow conned into taking us."

Dumb-fuck looked interested. "The city eh? Finally I get to cruise some chicks!"

"Yeah you better comb your mullet dude. You might meet Lindsay Lohan - and if she's off her face enough she could mistake you for Richard Branson lol."

"Fuck you virgin boy, what would you know? Your idea of a hot date is nibbling on a warm piece of your own poo."

"Yeah we'll see how far out the door of Uncle Vinnie's pad you make it, paunch-puff. You need to be able to walk more than a meter without passing out in order to get to a club you know."

"Are you kidding?" ranted Dumb-fuck, "They love me in club-land. Pop me an E and I get all da sexy babes. I'm the dancing queen!"

Its going to be a long week.

Skinny Pig

"Oh god," moaned Dumb-fuck, my fellow Guinea Pig (or at least so he claims).

"What now?" I sighed.

"Oh no Oh god oh noo..."

"Let me guess, you lost the keys to the Porsche."

"No. Worse. I think - I think I've lost weight."

"Lost weight?" I gave Dumb-fuck the once over - never a pleasant experience. He resembled a compressed sausage from the Ice Age. "So - you think you look...."

"Yeah," replied DF, grimly - "Skinny. Oh god. I'm going to kill myself."

"Honestly - you still look like a fat sack of overfed lard to me old boy."

"Don't try to cheer me up," cried Dumb-fuck, "It won't work. I'm skinny and thats all there is about it. May as well just live with it. *sob*. No wonder I can't get a hot date."

"DF, there are so many better reasons why you can't get a hot date - you're stupid, obnoxious, and incapable of using a phone. Face it - the situation is hopeless no matter what your tonnage is."

"Its no good," sighed DF, "You can't fix my mood. My day is ruined."

"Well I would offer you my stuff to eat but, the fact is, I just don't think you're worth it and also I enjoy seeing you miserable - so suck shit."

"What was that?" asked Dumb-fuck looking confused. "I'm starving. I can't think straight. I can't understand you. I'm fading fast. Losing consciousness. Its almost over. Goodbye cruel world."

"Oh for fuck sake have a pellet," I groaned.

"Sucked in!" erupted Dumb-fuck. He leapt on the miserly one pellet I tossed him and devoured it triumphantly.

It was sad how he thought he had won something.

That 3999 pellets left he still owes me :P

Capitalist pig

Dumb-fuck stared miserably at his last pellet for the day.

"I'll motherfucking starve!" he screamed.

"Check it out," I said, pointing to my still considerable pile of pellets.

"You bastard." moaned Dumb-fuck.

"I'll tell you what," I offered, "Dumb-fuck old boy. I'll sell you one pellet right now."

"Sell? Yeah?" DF thought about it (no mean feat for him believe me) "So how much is it?"

"One pellet costs two pellets."

"Huh?"

"You pay two pellets OK?"

"I don't have any pellets."

"That's why its two pellets. You can owe me."

"Oh. OK."

I tossed the pig a pellet.

"Sucked in loser," mocked DF once he got it, munching down on the pellet.

"What, you mean won't pay me?"

"Ha ha! Why should I?"

"Because, loser, I'll never sell you another fucking pellet again - you comprende? I've still got a shit load of pellets but there's no way in hell I'll sell you another fucking miserable one if you won't agree to pay."

"OK! Jesus! I'll pay."

"You want to buy another one?"

"Yeah yeah. Another one."

"Ok. That'll be twelve pellets."

"Twelve pellets for one pellet??? Fuck you."

"Its called inflation."

"Bullshit."

"Interest rates are going up fat-arse."

"Fuck you."

"How many pellets have you got to pay right now then?"

"Er - zero."

"Exactly. Twelve pellets for the next one, fuck face - or eat shit."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Donald Trump?"

"Pay up or shut up."

"Ok, ok."

I flicked the fool another pellet: "Eat up fatso."

"Piece of shit."

The pellet got munched.

"Now what?" I asked.

"You really are a bastard, you know that?

"Yeah, and?"

"Ok, so how much."

"Number three?"

"Yeah."

"50 pellets."

"What the fuck is this - crack??"

"Take it or starve."

After an hour Dumb-fuck owed me 4000 pellets. Ha very much! Greed is good.

Happy Halloween everyone! :)

Sick pig

"I don't feel too good," moaned Dumb-fuck.

"Maybe you ate something off," I suggested.

"Like hell. Don't ever say bad things about eating, OK? Ever!!"

"You sound a bit wheezy."

*cough* "That's right. I have a cold I think."

"Oh great - well do me a favour. Don't breath. It spreads germs."

"I don't think Guinea Pigs can sneeze, can they?"

"Well its not that we can't - we just don't."

"I kind of feel like I might."

"You'd be letting the whole species down."

Dumb-fuck banged his head on the ground - not exactly advisable when you are sick but otherwise typical of his style. "I feel sick. I'm dying!"

"Don't get my hopes up."

Dumb-fuck suddenly turned red. His eyes popped. Then a snorting kind of hiccup jolted his whole body and his nose exploded - sending a gooey gloopy mess over - yep you guessed it - my face.

Me: Now you really are dead.

Dumb-fuck: We don't have tissues do we *sniff*?

There is no end to hell.

Wicked

Wicked the musical is in town. How to I know? Because the moron boyfriend of What's-her-name (our carer) keeps singing "Defying Gravity" out loud and out of tune. Its like the Australian Idol rejects program except with the replay button stuck down.

Dumb-fuck asked me, "Defying Gravy?" Whats he talking about defying gravy for? Why do you need to defy gravy? Whats the problem with it? Is it in charge? I agree, it messes up hay and pellets and tastes like shit with lettuce (so I heard) but you don't have to defy it. Just don't eat it. Don't buy it. Don't cook it. Don't have any-fucking-thing to do with it. I mean ..."

I whacked DF on the nose. "Its about flying around on you broomstick you dunce. You know - zooming about in the land of Oz and being a witch and so-forth."

"Defying Graaaavity...," sang the boyfriend in the background.

"Everyone please shut up!" moaned What's-her-name. Who was she kidding? She'd been on the phone to her girlfriend for about five days now.

Dumb-fuck is a cretin, if you want my considered opinion, but at least he can't sing. Nether can the boyfriend for that matter, but that doesn't stop him. I mean, what kind of guy gets all worked up about a musical? I thought they were all into kicking things and all that tedious moronic sporty bullshit. This guy is the worst snag ever. He gets emotional over a musical. He sings loud and off-key. And he's spending good hay money buying CDs, DVDs, downloads, and more tickets to that bloody show.

Wicked - kill me now.

Line in the sand

The other day I caught Dumb-fuck, my fellow caged animal - Guinea Pig to you mofo - dragging his paw across the kitty-litter that covers our cage floor.

I sighed. I'm going to regret this I thought, but I asked: "DF old boy, what are you doing?"

"You see this line?" panted Dumb-fuck, sweating profusely with the effort of having to do something with muscles other than the ones he used for eating, "This line is a border. You don't cross it. This side of the line is my side. The other side is your side. Stay on your side from now on - that's how it is fat-face."

"A border...?"

"Damn right."

"Hmm - but all the hay and the pellets - in fact all our food - is on your side of the border."

"Our food? No. Myyyy food. You understand, bitch? My country is a winning country. Your country is for losers. People from my country travel with cameras to your country to make documentaries about how fucked you people are so we can feel sorry for you while we stuff our faces. Ha! Everything on my side...."

"Oh whatever," I said. I walked over the - er - "border", nose-butted Dumb-fuck in the head, and began to eat some hay.

"This is waaaaar!" cried Dumb-fuck, perspiring with rage, "I declare war. I will amass an army. We will fight you in the hay. We will fight you in the kitty-litter! We will ..."

At this a primate hand - What's-her-name's - reached down, grabbed Dumb-fuck and carried him away. "What's all this squeaking?" she asked.

I think she was carrying the mighty General off for a bath.

War, what is it good for?