Tonight I was sitting home writing my novel, it was a beautiful summer evening but I not feel like going out on the giant city of Chicago this evening. I am here to write my novel, and to discover all that this great city has to offer. . I had visited Jorge earlier (my little nephew, he lives in Humboldt Park) and decided to call it an early night. I had invested in cleaning my paws for awhile to ready them for writing the new mystery novel I had started writing recently. I will not drone on about my novel, it is in the early stages of construction. Just as I had settled down with my scotch on the rocks and a Cuban Cigar my cousin Frederico had given me, My Master came stumbling in the apartment with her brother. Based on the stench of keg beer and the unruly way in which they entered my apartment, I knew that I was not going to get any more work done on my novel this evening. I quick put away my materials, lapped the remnants of my scotch and was grabbed and stuffed into a bag of sorts.
Now, I have had several moments where My Master and her brother seem to think that they need to stuff me in a bag to bring me out in the public. I often hear them refer to it as "bagging me" which I find quite insulting. The only way I will even slightly tolerate this bagging nonsense is if there are bacon bits in the bottom of the bag, which this evening they were not. I thought maybe things would be different in Chicago, but as the act of "bagging" continued I knew that I was going to have to put my paw down once and for all with this nonsense. I struggled to get out of the bag and succeeded. As I looked around I realized that I was in a taxi cab, and we were headed towards Wicker Park. The cab smelt of the cologne my brother Pedro would wear to impress his lady friends. I constantly told Pedro that no respectable lady would enjoy the scent of pine trees and lost dreams. The ripe smell of an asshole fresh after my morning poop is the scent that most females from my homeland of Chihuahua are attracted to. Pedro is trying to compensate as usual. Nobody in the taxi made any sense, My Nemesis was in front, Master, her brother, and I in back. I have never seen My Nemesis so drunk before, apparently he had reached his limit for once.
We were dropped off around Ashland and Division, right next to My Nemesis's apartment. I assumed we were just going to go home and go to bed, but instead we walked into a place with a bright yellow sign with blinking lights called "Super Sub." I was surprised to be invited into such an establishment given my history as being a sort of scavenger I am not usually allowed to frequent these areas. My Nemesis ordered a bunch of food, and I struggled to get out of My Master's arms. Finally after a few minutes of struggle I was free. The place was full of vagrants, what looked like members of the mafia, and a few token loud belligerent fat black ladies. Once I started darting around the place scoping out the food that people had placed on the ground for the likes of me, people began to get excited about my furry body being part of their drunken adventure. In the spirit of the times, people began throwing french fries to me left and right. The salt on the fries and the joy of the people gave me an excitement that I have never experienced before. I felt crazed and out of control, I felt like nothing could bring me down from this high. We left hastily after our food was ready.
The aftermath of my adventure this evening resulted in several people passing out, I am still wired from my french fries. I am wondering where I can get more of these delectable treats. I hope my experiences with Super Sub will not be limited to this one evening. I am about to go to sleep, it is late, and the battery on my small portable lap top is almost dead.
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