I had a dream last night. It was about a dog. Nice dog. Tail wagging. Panting. White fur. Like the flying ones kids ride in movies. So I walk in and he’s all wagging and leg humping. I walk in the other room and realize he's trying to distract me. Big shit on the carpet. Persian one, the carpet. Real nice. Expensive. And I’m like damn, dog! Real calm-smooth he says, wasn’t me. You got the wrong guy. So I, of course, don’t know whose dog this is, or whose apartment this is. Doesn’t seem like mine. So, I’m like, alright, let me give this little guy the benefit of the doubt. I go looking around, room to room. No other dogs. No other entrances or exits. And now I start to get suspicious. I turn to—
Fucker is right behind me. Scares the crap out of me. Dance on air for a second. Come down and he’s like let’s go outside for a walk. And I’m like, okay, but can you clean up the dump you took on the carpet first? And he’s like, dude, I told you it wasn’t me. And I get so pissed I try to kick him, and whiff, and it wakes me from a dead sleep.
I get up. Glass of water. Bathroom. Back to bed. Sure enough, little fucker is waiting for me by the door when I get back down in there. So I’m like alright, let me take this cute little guy for a walk. Get outside, sun gleaming in his white fur, transfiguring him into this resplendent little demigod of cooter and hydrant sniffing. The whole walk, over an hour, he doesn’t shit. Been cooped up all day in the house, and here’s his chance to drop that deuce, but he’s light as a feather in there. Now I’m real suspicious. Get back and ask him one last time. Now’s your chance to own it, buddy. Make or break time. Not me, he says, doubling down. Okay, I says. I will clean it. I scoop it up, and put in a plastic bag instead of the trash. He looks at me funny, wondering why I’m doing that. Grab a treat, I do. Come here, buddy! Now he’s real suspicious, but fuck if he doesn’t want to get that treat down his slimy goblin hole. Comes over, wary, mouth watering, sniffing, I put it on his nose. He kicks it up, to toss it into his mouth, and as soon as he lays his eyes on it—
Whines like a baby, he does, when I yank a hair out of his ear, and pull out another plastic bag to put it in. He’s real suspicious now. Senses a trap. I say nothing. Not going to play my hand until I have solid, undeniable proof. Next day I take it to the lab. DNA. Six months, they tell me. Whatever, fine. I go home, wait it out. Act like nothing’s up. But he can tell. Senses something’s up. He knows what he did. Knows it was wrong. Knows there’s still a big shit stain on the carpet that won’t come out. Knows that it’s his, the guilty little bastard.
The day finally comes. It’s a match. 97% conclusive it’s his shit in that bag. So I rush home, to show him, and he’s all wagging and humping again. Hard for me to be mad at him when he’s being cute like that. Walk in the room, and you won’t fucking believe it. He’s trying to distract me again. Another massive shit, right next to the stain still visible from the first shit. This you, I ask, without tipping my hand. Meee?, he says, in italics.
Yeah, you. You saying this wasn’t you, I ask, pulling out my folder with the results, all grandiloquent and shit for effect, like Judge Judy or whoever it is that does those paternity test shows. Nope, he says. And this one, I ask, pointing to the stain in the silken fibers? This one wasn't you, either, right? Shakes his head. No sireeeee. You sure, I ask, giving him one last chance. I’m sure, dickface, he says, getting mad at me, as if I’m the one that ruined the carpet. Fine, I says, exhibit one. What do you say to that?
He grabs it. Scans it over. No reaction. He's good, man, this one. Gotta give him that. You see this DNA profile, he says? This is actually the profile of my dad, he goes on, and I mean deadpan. I look at him, speechless, as he continues. That 3% differential proves it was someone in my direct lineage, but not me. If it was me the match would be 100%. I try to kick him again but he’s too quick. Scurries away as the house collapses and I wake up.