Of the leash
-
For a pair of pants
His favorite pastime
for the last time
-
Why can't I be a normal kid like any other?
Now, doodle bug, listen to mother.
I hate dogs.
I do not wish to be a dog.
Yes!
Mmm. Yummy.
Aah!
Oh, my gosh. Spot, I just had the weirdest dream.
You came to school dressed like a kid,
and you were the smartest guy in class
and a great athlete, and everybody liked you,
but you were my dog, and if anyone found out,
I'd never live it down!
Um, that wasn't a dream, Leonard.
That was last week.
-No way! -Way, Leonard.
What about the part where I had no pants on
and I was being chased by a man in a gorilla suit?
All right, that was a dream.
Ooh, you're a very complex boy.
Any-who, back to here and now.
I am the new kid in your class.
I'm Scott Leadready II.
I've only been there a week,
but based on the spelling pretest
and our long-division pop quiz,
I'm riding a 4.0 bullet train to Harvard, baby!
Mind if I wear these today, bro?
Those khakis of yours are a bit binding
in the tail region.
Ouch.
But what if someone finds out?
What if they take you away and perform experiments on you?
What if ever after I'm known as the kid
with the talking dog?
"What if," "what if..." What if pigs could fly?
Although I guess if you could
get their little cloven hooves
to actually grip the control levers,
they might have a shot.
But I digress.
Don't worry about "what if," Leonard.
Just enjoy what is.
Isn't it every kid's fantasy
to have his dog come to school with him?
You'll always have someone to play with at recess.
No one could be more loyal.
As usual, I choose Leonard.
And you never have to worry about cleaning your plate in the caf.
By the way, those ingrates
who complain about cafeteria food
have never tasted simulated liver munchies.
I have a very unusual dog.
He can do things
no other dog in the world can do.
Oh, no. Busted.
I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen.
Using his furry little tail for balance,
he can sit up and beg for a cookie
for five, six minutes at a stretch.
Whew.
Great. That'll be my legacy.
Now, see, this is the kind of yummy,
colorful detail I want from you
in your essays entitled "A Very Special Pet"--
due Friday, three to five pages,
college-ruled paper, in ink, use cursive,
spelling and punctuation count, and don't forget to work in at least
15 words from your unit 2 vocabulary list.
So, what pet are you going to write about, Scott?
A pet. A pet.
This is a conundrum wrapped in an enigma,
because I don't have a pet, I am a pet.
I don't have a pet, I am a pet. Ooh...
I'm still debating, Leslie.
Yeah. Me too.
My boa constrictor, Slimer, can swallow a live rat whole!
But my komodo dragon, Spike, can nail a mosquito
in mid-flight!
Why don't you write about your colony of head lice, Ew-an?
That was kindergarten, and there was an epidemic!
I don't have a pet, I am a pet.
Stop saying that!
Ooh, I could make up a pet, unleash my fertile imagination,
and follow it wheresoever it may lead.
My pet, the unicorn...
My pet, the Phoenix...
Rise! Rise!
My pet, the mysterious yeti of the himalayas.
The himahl-yas?
When did I become so pretentious? Nah.
That's not the assignment.
I couldn't sell that with a pound of liver.
I bet Leonard's essay will be the best.
Really, Leslie?
Sure. You've got the coolest dog
in the whole wide world.
Plus, he can write down that stuff his mom said
and his essay's done.
You luck-out.
Yeah. Wish my mom was the teacher.
Yeah. Easy "A".
Hey! I do my own work,
and I don't need any help from anyone.
I'll show 'em.
This is the essay I was born to write.
I may not know much, but I do know my pets.
What kind of pet
does a Scott Leadready have?
Whatever I choose
will say so much about me as a boy.
Am I the horsie type?
Gosh, these jodhpurs are killing me.
Has anyone seen my riding crop?
Am I a falconer?
Ow.
Good grief!
Could I possibly have a dog?
My very special pet.
Oh, I'm so stuck.
Aw, come on. You got the easy job.
Yeah, sure, if I write about you,
everyone will say I ripped off my own mother.
Why do humans find that funny?
I have to go see a man about a bush.
Hey! Maybe I could write about one of them.
Fellas!
Oh, boys!
Ugh. There's that dog who passes for human.
Yeah. He thinks his tail don't smell.
Say there, mutts on the block,
I was wondering if one of you might be interested
in being the subject of an essay
I have to write for school.
Ow!
Ohh.
A simple "no" would have sufficed.
My very special pet.
Oh, need some help, Cinnamon Bun?
I don't need help,
and please don't call me Cinnamon Bun!
Oh, okay. Now, what I meant was,
do you want some help or a cinnamon bun?
Ha ha ha!
Oh. Thanks.
Ahh.
Mmm. Good.
Ahem! Hey, dufus!
There is another special pet around here you could write about.
Oh, why, Pretty Boy, how kind of you!
Not you, tuna lips!
Me! The bird! The guy in the cage!
You? Why would Leonard write about you
when he could write about me?
Who gets on your tummy when you're watching TV
and purrs like a little warm motor boat?
Mr. Jolly is cuddly.
I guess I could write about that.
Don't be a sap.
He eats, he sleeps, he hocks up hairballs.
You're begging for a "C".
And you're an easy "A",
Mr. Swing-on-a-red-plastic-bar- and-peck-at-a-seed-bell?
Scared to leave the house, sheds year 'round,
can't step out of the box without leaving clumps?
Ohh!
How could all that meanness come out of someone so little?
Hey! Hey! Let's not get personal here.
Besides, Lenny boy,
don't forget who sings for you, baby!
Ooh, he does have a lovely voice.
Have mercy, you two.
These are highly sensitive sound-wave receptors.
What happened to you?
Let's just say I ran into some not-so-special pets.
Listen, I've thought it over,
and what say we just keep it in the house, huh?
Leonard can write about Pretty Boy,
and I, Scott,
shall immortalize our very own Mr. Jolly.
Sounds good.
Fine.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Scott was an option?
Scott's a straight-"A" student.
I want Scott! Is it too late to switch?
Well, I don't know about you,
but my idea of a super-duper, pepper-upper Saturday night
is a steaming mug of hot cider,
a great big bubble bath, and these essays.
Ha ha ha!
I was at the movies.
Wonderful job, honey.
Mommy's so proud of her little essay writer.
Ha ha ha!
Mom, everyone's looking!
Oh. Oh. Ahem.
That is, congratulations, Mr. Helperman.
You turned in a neat and thorough composition
in a timely fashion.
Ha ha ha!
An "A"?
I actually got an "A" all on my own, no help!
Extra credit points.
Ooh, you got to love them.
Well, boys and girls,
each and every one of your pets
just sounded so very special
that I decided-- ha ha ha--
we need to meet them all.
So, drumroll, please.
Tomorrow is hereby declared
the first annual fourth-grade pet parade!
Ha ha ha!
And, as a very extra-special treat,
you'll all have a chance
to read your essays out loud...
For our ultra-extra-special guest,
my friend Mary Beth, the publisher
of Mary Beth's Special Pets Monthly Magazine,
who's agreed to publish her favorite essay,
along with a color photo of the author
and-- and-- his or her special pet
in the next issue!
Ha ha ha!
Yay!
Wow!
My essay that I wrote all by myself,
without any help from anyone,
in a magazine!
Then everyone who read it
would know that I wrote it, and I don't need any help,
and I'm me, and--
I'm going on here, aren't I?
Mary Beth's Special Pets Monthly.
Well, it's not the Sunday Times,
but you got to start somewhere.
It all started in the fourth grade,
with a little essay about a cat.
I hope you're not dreaming about getting your essay
in Mary Beth's Special Pets Monthly
because that one's mine.
We'll see.
I'm sure looking forward to meeting
your cat Schroedinger tomorrow, Scott.
He sounds just like my Mr. Jolly.
Oh, but he's not! Unh-unh, no way!
Uh, Schroedinger is, uh, black--
moorish, at least.
Ugh! Dirty. Dirty!
I just feel so dirty.
Stop it. Stop it.
You're getting all orangey again.
Aah! My tail! My glorious orange tail!
I'll never stop hating you for this.
Okay, we got your fresh newspaper,
your mirror polished...
Don't you worry kid, we're going to beat that dog and his cat
with one wing tied behind our back.
What you going to say when you lift the cage cover?
Um, I don't know.
How about, "everybody, this is my canary!"
You're pathetic.
Get over here so I can peck your head.
You want to get our mug in the magazine,
give it a little oomph.
As my dear mother used to say,
"grab them by the beaks, and their hearts will follow."
Now, repeat after me.
Ladies and gentlemen,
give it up for the pride of Arnie's pets and stuff,
the one, the only,
Pretty Boy Helperman!
I'd better win this thing.
I can't do it. I thought I could, but I can't.
I'm not a black cat. I'm not a brave cat.
I'm just a ball of fear covered with soot.
Let Leonard and Pretty Boy have the glory.
I'll be under the bed.
No! Mr. Jolly, my writing career!
They're going down!
Just five more minutes, Mommy.
Out, out, darn spot.
You, too, darn Spot.
Oh, please, Mr. Jolly,
don't do this to me now.
Here, kitty-kitty. Here, kitty-kitty.
Yes.
Oh, let him be.
Just say Scott's cat couldn't make it,
and be happy for me and Pretty Boy.
We're going to have our picture
in Mary Beth's Special Pets Monthly.
Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, little boy?
No, Leonard, no!
As much as I love and respect you
as my master and best friend,
it's our picture you'll be looking at--
if I could just get him out
from under this bed!
Ow!
And now we are going!
This is going to be fun.
Her bite doesn't really hurt,
but if it breaks the skin,
you do have to go to the doctor
and get a shot, or you'll die.
Oh, Mary Beth, aren't these kids and their pets
absotively fantabulous?
Ha ha ha!
Oh, posilutely spantacular, Mary Lou.
How in tarnation am I going to pick just one?
Schroedinger Leadready is a cat among cats,
fearless and unflinching,
with the glow of a yellow moon in his eyes,
yet highly philosophical.
Turtles and fishes and rats, oh, my!
If the essay-reading starts to go south,
don't forget your ace in the hole.
What are you staring at, jaws?
You never seen a guy tweet before?
Ha ha ha!
Okay, thank you, Younghee,
and it was a real treat meeting Cheesy.
Now, who would like to go next?
Lady Fluffer Cottontail is ready.
It's going to be okay. I'll read my essay quick,
nail the competition,
bow, "thank you very much,"
and run you right home.
There. Now, just wait here.
I left my essay in the cloak room.
I'll be right back.
I'm Schroedinger Leadready.
I'm not Mr. Jolly. I'm not a scaredy-cat.
I'm king of the beasts.
Aah!
Oh, for crying out loud!
Come on, basket case. I'm getting you out of here.
Just grab my foot and don't look down.
Aw, leave him alone already.
Pick on someone your own species.
Hey, who turned off the lights?
Let me out of here!
Hey!
Nobody swallows my friend like that.
Hyah!
Yuck!
Now, those were some ugly guts.
In conclusion, it's not her pink eyes
or the way her nose wiggles when she nibbles a carrot,
but it's her heart full of love
that makes Lady Fluffer Cottontail
my very special pet.
The end.
Okay, thank you, Leslie.
Now we will hear from Leonard Helperman.
We're up, Pretty Boy.
Where is he?
See? I told you the world's a scary place.
Not the whole world, my friend--
just the fourth grade.
Now come on.
Let's get you home.
Sing for me, Pretty Boy.
Really? You like my singing?
You're not just humoring me?
It helps, somehow.
Oh, great.
Without Pretty Boy, I've got nothing.
What an ironic twist of fate.
This actually works out better for me.
With no Mr. Jolly here in person,
quaking and shaking and drawing attention,
I can create a picture with my words alone
of Schroedinger, the coolest cat in the world.
My essay prevails!
I mean, yahoo!
Yeah, well, you're a great writer,
and you deserve to win.
Leonard, your turn, honey.
My turn to prove what a loser I am.
I'm sorry to be a huge disappointment to everyone,
but, well, my bird, who I wrote my essay about,
well, he isn't here...
But my dog is!
Hey, hey!
Good boy! Good, good boy, Spot!
Oh, what a good, good doggy!
Ha ha ha!
Yay!
Thanks, buddy.
Everyone, this is Spot.
He's more than just a very special pet,
he's the best friend anybody ever had.
Spot rules!
He's special!
Ha ha ha!
I still can't believe how cool it was of you
to give up your chance
to become published just so you could be my dog.
Sometimes I even amaze myself.
I'll bet it felt pretty good
just to be your dog self again, huh?
Run free, no clothes,
lick anyone's face you want to.
Oh, no. I know where you're heading this train,
and you can just stop it right on the track, boy-o.
I've had a taste of school life,
and I'm never going back to being just a dog again.
Every day, in every way,
I am becoming more and more human.
Hey, a squirrel!
Ha ha ha! Good boy.
That is one good-looking pet.
Oh, no. The owner's the good-looking one.
Beaten by a bunny.
Hey, wait. What's that over to the far left?
Leonard, part of my nose in a national publication.
This is just the beginning.
If part of my nose attracts the eye
way over on the side like that,
perhaps I shouldn't concentrate on writing.
I could be a supermodel!
Do we have any film in the camera?
What?
I want to take some test shots to see if--
all right, all right, stop it.
Stop it right now, please.
Please, please, stop it!
Ha ha ha!
Oh, why do humans find that funny?