Allergy Panel of the Damned


“I’m watching you take out your credit card. Hurts, don’t it?”

Me: Well, that was expensive.

Tierce:  You paid to have me tortured?

Me:  I paid to have an allergy panel done on you.  Inhalant and insect.  You could be allergic to dust mites.  Mould.  People.

Tierce:  I could definitely see being allergic to you and your oppressive regime.

Me:  This is not a regime.  This is ointment.

Tierce: Ahuh.  Sure.  So if you’re looking for allergies, why did you pay the vet to steal my blood for their demonic rituals?

Me:  The vet is going to send it away for testing and in a week or so, we should have an idea of what you’re allergic to.

Tierce:  I think the vet is going to use it to bind me to your will.  Make me like a Lab or something.

Me:  Oh, believe me, if that could be done…

Tierce:  I registered my objections, though.

Me:  I heard.

Tierce:  I screamed, “THE POWER OF ME COMPELS YOU!”

Me:  Did it work?

Tierce: No.

Me:  Might have to do with the fact that you’re not a god and the vet isn’t a demon.

Tierce:  So you say.  Wait- what are you doing with that devil’s brew?

Me:  The ointment?  I’m spreading it over the place that you licked raw.

Tierce:  Hey, hey now.

Me:  Look, would you stop struggling?

Tierce:  It feels weird!

Me:  Look, this isn’t fun for me either, you know.  The last thing I really wanted to do tonight is put ointment anywhere near your junk.

Tierce:  How would I know?  You have all sorts of fucked-up hobbies.  Putting hats on me, harnesses, putting me in the kayak, in the bike trailer…  Pervert.

Me:  That’s what is known as ‘life experience’- stop kicking me!

Tierce:  Stop putting gooey crap on me!  Look, I’ll lick it myself and it’ll all be good.  Dogs have healing powers.

Me:  Forget it!  That’s what got you into this mess and don’t wriggle.  This cost me 20 bucks and you’re not wasting it.

Tierce:  You spent 20 bucks on Satan’s potion?  Now who’s wasting things?

Me:  There.  You’re done.  DO NOT LICK IT OFF.

Tierce:  Why not?

Me:  That stuff is to help you heal.

Tierce:  Why not?

Me:  I’ll be displeased.

Tierce:  Why not?


Tierce:  All right, fine.


  1. You absolutely sure that's not MY dog, the aptly named, "Prince?"

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