Gonzo Report: Invasion of the Gila monsters… a raid on a dog owner’s home…
[Warning: The following gonzo story is so disgusting and filthy, you may need to wash after reading it.]
Imagine the shear terror of being awakened just before dawn by the clawing and hissing of several angry Gila monsters trying to climb over the front gate to your home.
You try to shake off the cobwebs of sleep and get a closer look, only to discover that what you see is actually several Animal Control officers raiding your home.
You notice what you first believed was the head lizard barking out commands, but it’s really General ACO Farley Lucas directing his ‘dogcatchers’ toward your front door.
General Lucas has been up all night planning this raid. In fact, it’s the highlight of his week. And like all his raids, plans began inside the Animal Control situation room in front of a white board.
Lucas pacing up front with his pointer, subordinate Animal Control agents seated, flanking both sides of the situation room table…
Lucas is a firm no nonsense commander, barking out commands with conviction, “You take the front door! You take the back door! … and you, you take the goats!” Lucas says as he whacks the white board with his pointer in cadence to each order, directing attention to a diagram of your front and rear doors… as well as your goats (which were depicted as stick figures because nobody in the room considered themselves a good enough artist…)
You didn’t see it coming, as they barge their way into your home… with not even a “Good morning” or “Hello, we’ll be your predawn raid team for the remainder of this top secret operation.”
A senior member of the Animal Control threshold breach team shouts into her radio, “CLEAR!” This signals more agents in through your front door, carrying dog leashes, dog control poles, cameras, clip boards, and several trays of large hot coffees in white Styrofoam cups …
You’re completely unprepared and horrified by the sudden invasion, asking one of ‘dogcatchers’ why they just didn’t call you on your cell and ask to stop by at a decent hour… and by the way, what is this all about? “Shut up, scumbag. This is an Animal Control investigation. You’ll get your turn to speak when we say so. Sit over there next to your dogs and keep your paws… ‘er… I mean keep your hands where I can see them! Com-pren-de hom-bre? You’re not in Brazil anymore!”
You try to clarify that in Brazil they actually speak Portuguese, but decide to clam up after getting a menacing look from Lucas.
It finally sinks in, you’re in deep dog doo doo. Best to keep your mouth shut…
You’re reminded of General Patton as you watch the Animal Control leader pacing your kitchen, wearing his famous knee-high patent leather boots… the ones he wears to every one of his expertly planned and flawlessly executed predawn raids. He’s still grasping his pointer, which is now tucked up in the “at ease” position underneath his right armpit. Pointer in his right hand, black leather gauntlet gloves clutched in his left, with all ten empty fingers perfectly aligned and poking out in unison. He’s the striking image of a man on a mission.
You suddenly feel nauseous.
Someone finally squats down in front of you and breaks the silence. It’s Lucas. “Do you know who I am?” You nod that you do.
Lucas continues, “I’m going to ask this just once, and only once… you understand?” You again nod that you do.
“Where?” Lucas asks, clearing his throat and looking up over his shoulder at one of his agents, trying not to laugh. “Where do you keep your sugar? The Brazilian girl at Dunks forgot to put sugar in one of the coffees.” Lucas tries to choke back his laughter. “Maybe I should go back there and remind her that it’s not Brazil, just like I reminded you.” At this point all the other Animal Control agents start to chuckle as well. So humiliating…
“Ahhh, just kidding, don’t be such a baby,” Lucas reaches out and ruffles your hair. “We got plenty of sugar. We’re just here to fuck with you. You realize that don’t you? This isn’t really about zoning or any of that other happy horseshit. This is about you – Mr. Rico Suave – being a little uppity dog owner… going around town doing all your little dog tricks. Do you really think that impresses me?”
You shrug, wondering why this guy’s being such a prick.
“And what’s this about you going into town hall asking all types of questions? Demanding answers about dog kennel licenses? Just who do you think you are? Remember, you’re not from around here buddy. This isn’t Harwich, or Rio, or wherever the fuck you use to live. You don’t know how things work around here, and that’s why we’re here today to finally get it through your thick skull. I’ve been doing this job for over 30 years and I’m the only head honcho around here Rico Suave. Com-pren-de?”
“Rico Suave is a Spanish nickname! I was born here in the US and was raised in Brazil where they speak Portuguese. Get it right!” you suddenly lose it and blurt out just like he wanted you to.
“Look, that’s just what I’m talking about right there,” Lucas announces to everyone in the room, victoriously. “You don’t know how to control yourself. You think you’re special. You know EVERYTHING about dogs, which is why you think you can just prance into town hall and start demanding things. Like a kennel license… or a variance… or confirmation on where you can set up legally, like that’s something we care about. Well it doesn’t work that way around here bub… and now you’re in big trouble.”
You want to ask what it was that made him get a search warrant, but he just waives you off and continues his lecture.
“Let me tell you how this is going to work. We’re going to take pictures of everything you own… of you… and of every one of your mutts. Then we’re going to write our reports, and what we say is law so don’t even try to fight it, you won’t win. Like I just said, you’re in big big trouble now Rico. You should have kept your mouth shut and got out of town when the getting was good.”
“But what did I do?” You respond.
“You’ll see Rico, you’ll see.”
Lucas and his squad take their time taking pictures, poking through drawers, looking under tables, and even inside of your box of breakfast cereal. You remember thinking ‘there’s no way I’m going to eat that stuff now.’
Your mind wanders to visions of back home where you grew up. Your family. Your dogs. All the friendly people…
… then suddenly a slamming cabinet door wakes you up again to the horrible reality of the moment and you see uniformed people who don’t like you going through all of your stuff.
Like everyone who comes to live here, you just wanted to fit in with your dogs. They’re your only family these days. Now you wish you had never come to this town.
When they finally pack up and leave, you think you see, in the corner of your eye, a giant Gila monster leaving with them… holding a pen with its forked tongue.
Was this all just a hallucination?
* * * * *
[Thank you for reading. That’s all, the story’s over. You can go and wash yourself now, and maybe even imagine you’re Pontius Pilate or something… After all, you don’t really have a dog in this Gila monster of a fight. Be thankful for that. In fact, the above story is just a piece of fiction… right?]
8/7/2014
Conrad Mingus, HN Gonzo Team
***** Disclaimer, the above Gonzo Report has nothing to do with the position and views of Hyannis News. In fact, it’s just so damn whacky, people may not even believe it’s a complete work of fiction! *****
P.S. – Today's Gonzo Report is brought to you by Stealers Wheel... [Crank it]
