Virginia Bob, on one of his historic visits to the Bay Area, tried to educate the high tech Californians, TheLastLaugh.net editorial team, regarding proper dog treat etiquette. This was all about Frosty Paws, a Pseudo- ice cream treat for dogs.
Sophia tried, in her typically earnest fashion, to explain that Frosty Paws were not available on the West Coast.
Virginia Bob found this appalling.
“Y’all mean I am going to have to bring a box of Frosty Paws back with me on the plane?” he asked using his Virginian drawl to a most charming effect
The Scottish Geisha swept by, distributing editorial assignments.
“Bring two,” she instructed, “We will need to do a taste test as our pets have….highly developed taste buds.”
What Virginia Bob thought of this backhanded insult to the canines of Virginia is unknown.
The reason Virginia Bob had to make this kind of emergency Frosty Paw run was because, after extensive web searches, it became sadly apparent that this particular consumer item was not marketed on the West Coast. We wondered aloud why that was.
“Because our pets are so sophisticated,” The Scottish Geisha said as if this should be glaringly apparent to the rest of the world.
Virginia Bob went on to explain that ‘his girls’ (dogs mind you), get their nightly Frosty Paws treats at precisely 8:30 p.m. every night.
The Scottish Geisha paused to consider this information. “You really are very military aren’t you?”
Virginia Bob didn’t see how that had anything to do with it. Especially since he was a fireman by trade, not in the military.
The Scottish Geisha paused and leaned close, nearly whispering into the poor man’s ear. “You say ‘stand by’ when you want someone to wait, you refer to your own flesh and blood, mother and father as, ‘parental units’,” she said softly. “Do your puppies march at dawn then?”
Virginia Bob assured her that this wasn’t so. “My girls would never get up at dawn,” he boomed genially.
The Scottish Geisha smiled ever so softly. “Ah, then there is hope for you yet,” she remarked and exited the scene.
While Virginia Bob tried to sort this comment out in his precisely ordered head, the conversation returned to the recent mauling of magician Roy Horn by a 600-pound tiger in Las Vegas.
“I call this Day twelve, Tiger Watch,” Sophia said cheerfully as she surfed the web for medical updates on the entertainer’s condition.
The Scottish Geisha returned, adding additional assignments to the already growing pile of work. “Somebody needs to keep better track of the kitty,” she remarked.
Kitty?
“Yes, kitty, the tiger that has been accused in this alleged biting incident,” she said impatiently.
As far as knew, the tiger in question had been sprung from quarantine, for legal reasons, regarding the question of rabies.
“That’s standard procedure” Sophia explained. “All wild animals get quarantined when there is a bite,” she said, adding hastily, “Alleged bite, I mean.”
Sophia’s sister Gina-Marie, a long-time Las Vegas resident, had been sending regular updates. Slither, typical of lawyers when a legal opinion was needed but no checkbook open, was no where to be found.
“I don’t think they can destroy an endangered species so easily,” The Scottish Geisha remarked. “After all, this is a wild animal, a beautiful creature. Kitty was just having a bad day,” she added.
The Scottish Geisha had not only seen Siegfried and Roy’s famed show but had actually met several of the tigers in person.
“Don’t print that,” she warned. “I only met and held the baby tigers, the cubs,” she said.
How The Scottish Geisha managed that star-studded opportunity was something she was unwilling to elaborate on.
What are tiger cubs like?
The Scottish Geisha paused before answering thoughtfully. “Heavier and much stronger than you would expect,” she replied. “And playful,” she added, pointing to a tiny scar on her delicate forearm.
A tiger cub scratched The Scottish Geisha?
“Goodness no, kitty kept his claws sheathed,” she laughed. “The little sweetheart simply gave me a love bite. He was only playing.”
We wondered aloud if Roy Horn felt this way about the mauling.
The Scottish Geisha frowned slightly. “Do not joke about such things. That was obviously a tragic accident, most regrettable. People who do this kind of thing understand the enormous risk they undertake,” she explained, adding, “Horn has had one such accident in neigh on forty years, that’s astounding if you think about it.”
So, people who do this kind of thing like The Crocodile Hunter?
“No, the Crocodile Hunter is a seriously disturbed, albeit cheerful person,” The Scottish Geisha said, casting about for another subject.
Somebody came forward with the Shark’s new roster, the team that will be playing for the 2003-2004 season. “Oh look” The Scottish Geisha cooed, “Its Montecore.”
Montecore? It was a photo of the Shark’s newest enforcer, Scott Parker, number 27, and one of the most feared power players in the NHL.
“Montecore is the name of the tiger that allegedly mauled Roy Horn,” Sophia piped up helpfully.
The Scottish Geisha narrowed her tiger green eyes. “Precisely,” she intoned, tapping the photo with one of her own talons. “If you all would take but a moment to compare, you would see that they possess quite remarkably similar expressions.”
Sophia scanned the stories Gina-Marie sent her. “Hang on,” she said, punching the print button on her computer.
We crowded around comparing photos of the lethal white tiger and Scott Parker.
There was a moment of expectant silence.
Even Virginia Bob paused to consider.
“Remarkable,” he drawled.
“It's positively spooky,” Sophia agreed.
When it came to facial expressions, Montecore the rare 600-pound white tiger and Scott Parker, Left Wing for The Shark’s hockey team, we had ourselves an exact match.
“If you think they have similar expressions, you might want to consider if their thought processes are similar as well,” The Scottish Geisha quipped.
Staring at the magnificent tiger and the lethal expression on Parker’s face, we suddenly couldn't’t wait for the next Shark’s game.