थे लाश The Leash

Anticipation. Anticipation. You hit the power button and your laptop awakens from a brief slumber. Wait for it. The startup screen slowly reveals itself. Tap tap tap taptap tap enter. You log on. Dell runs through a series of antibodies, antiviruses and other protective layers you'll never really understand. Doubleclick. Firefox opens. Your pulse quickens as you scroll down your list of favorites. Bloglas McBlogland is just one more click away. And on this special day... you're treated to some brand spanking new prose. No limericks this time around. No haiku. No iambic pentameter. No mnemonic devices. No feng shui. Poetry in motion, if poetry was prose and motion was utter stillness - poetry in motion.

Brown Dog licks you repeatedly. Licking the same place again and again and again. Again. There must be infinite layers to your flavor - appreciated only through intense lickery. No. There is an end to it. Brown Dag takes his leave. Wanders about. You only hear an occasional sniff in the near distance as it searches for something else to lick or lay down upon. Brown Dog's disappeared once again. Black Dog would always find trouble in these silent moments. Brown Dog only finds more silence in these silent moments. Retreating to its quarters with no bribery or incentive. Other times, no amount of bribery or incentive would coax such movement, only The Leash would yield the desired result. The Leash - master and friend, punishment and reward, restrainer and liberator, noun and noun, smile and frown. The Leash - the latest thriller from John Grisham now in paperback and in a theater near you. Denzel Washington plays disabled lawyer Gruden Peters who has a service dog named Valdez. Big oil has nearly taken control of the US government and only a missing capsule of microfilm from 1988 can stop them from winning a Supreme Court case that will put Jacob Exxon in the White House. Un-ironic spoiler - the microfilm was in the dog's leash which falls to the floor when --> Valdez jumps up and gives Exxon a black eye. Sadly reviewed as Grisham's most uninspired work since The Paralegal.

G'night.