Fido Casting Call: Day of the Dead Shiba

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Me: Hey Tierce!

Tierce: Go away, I’m tired of your abuse.

Me: It’s the Day of the Dead!

Tierce: Are you dead? Doesn’t sound like it.

Me: Here’s your costume. You’re a mummy.

Tierce: A mummy. That’s Egyptian. I’m Japanese.

Me: There were mummies in Japan. Self-made mummies.

Tierce: Self-made mummies. So they yanked their brains out of their nostrils themselves and wrapped themselves in bandages? Bandages that I’m sure didn’t say ‘K Bro Linen Systems’ on them.

Me: It was a pillowcase. It was the only thing I could find that I could use.

Tierce: What hotel did you steal this from?

Me: ANYWAY… They were called Sokushinbutsu and they were pretty freaky.

Tierce: Oh, they dressed up their dogs for stupid holidays, too? Isn’t the Day of the Dead Mexican? Did they dress up their dogs for stupid Mexican holidays?

Me: Yes. They did. In fact, they dressed them up for Mardi Gras and the annual Cheese Rolling Festival in Gloucestershire. Can I continue?

Tierce: Okay, whatever.

Me: So for 1000 days – about 3 years, they would eat nothing but nuts and seeds. They would work out with the intensity of an Iditarod dog sled team. Then, for another 1000 days, they would only eat bark and leaves. Then they would drink a poisonous tea, wall themselves up in a little tomb and ring a little bell every day to let people know they were still alive. When the bell stopped ringing, the tomb was sealed up until they went to check to see if the guy became a mummy. Sometimes they just decomposed.

Tierce: That’s… the worst story I’ve ever heard. Is that what people in Japan are like? You humans are batshit insane.

Me: No, most Japanese people are just like people anywhere. Most humans aren’t going to starve themselves and then wall themselves up in a little tomb.

Tierce: No, but you’ll do it to a helpless dog.

Me: What? Wait, are you talking about the time I put you in the crate for a couple of hours and your dinner was a half hour late?

Tierce: You were trying to kill me, weren’t you? Make me into a little dog-mummy.

Me: A crate, a pillowcase and a late meal and you think I’m trying to kill you? Believe me, Tierce, if I seriously wanted to kill you, you’d know it.

Tierce: Oh, I know it. Look at what you feed me. I bet it’s made of bark and leaves. Tastes like it.

Me: That is top-quality dog food! And you – you got half of Mischa’s plate of spaghetti last night! You’re not deprived and you’re certainly not starving.

Tierce: Like I’d trust anything you gave me after that little story.

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