Chomps was angry.
Chomps was always angry.
Everything around him begged for destruction. Their existence was a mockery to him. An affront. All must be destroyed, but time dictated to Chomps that he must choose his targets carefully.
Some things were moving in front of him. Smelly things, with long unkempt hair. One made the sound, “Bush is like Hitler, and he needs to be stopped!” Chomps did not understand the meaning of such sounds, but it made him angry.
Very angry.
He could not stand living in a world where these things existed. The rage boiled inside him until it came out as a low growl and then evolved into a bark as he charged forward. The moving things shrieked and ran away.
That made Chomps even angrier.
He was almost on them, ready to destroy them, when he heard a loud noise. Loud noises made Chomps angry. He turned to see something big and metal moving his way. Chomps opened his maw ready to destroy it.
But it was too large.

“How is my dog?” Rumsfeld shouted, “I’ll strangle you if you don’t cure Chomps! Rarr!”
“Strangling me isn’t going to help your dog,” the veterinarian said as he backed away, “now have these elephant tranquilizers and calm down.”
Rumsfeld swallowed the pills and felt the murderous rage subside. “So how is he?”
“He’s currently in the world’s angriest coma,” the veterinarian said, as Chomps lay unconscious, growling and snapping his teeth randomly in the air. “The truck that hit him was totaled, and the cinderblocks it was carrying were all destroyed. This dog shouldn’t be living, but his extreme anger seems to keep him going.”
Chomps started snapping more violently in the air, his eyes still shut. “I wonder what he’s dreaming of,” Rumsfeld mused.

“So Betsy had a whole litter of pups, eh?” Zeke asked.
“Yep, cute little rottweilers they are,” his cousin Clyde answered.
“All just so blind and helpless,” Zeke said as he stared at the little pups lying there. He then spotted one trying to move as it snapped its toothless jaw at what it could hear. “‘cept that one. He looks angry.”
“Yeah, it almost seems like he’s mad ’cause his eyes are closed and is trying to bite them.”
“Cute little guy, though.” Zeke reached down to pet him, but the puppy immediately clamped on his finger. “Ow!” Zeke yelled as he pulled his hand back.
“He’s got quite a bite,” Clyde said, “Won’t be fun when he gets teeth. We call that one Chomps ’cause of how he bites so much. ‘Chomps’ means ‘bite.'”
“I reckon that’s a good name for him,” Zeke answered. Suddenly, Chomps started biting in the air even more fiercely as he tried to move towards the T.V. On it was Bill Clinton giving a speech. Since Chomps’s legs weren’t quite working, he just kept flopping and rolling in the general directions as he growled and bit at it.
“Must not like the President,” Zeke said.
“Nope. He surely doesn’t. Gets in a frenzy every time that lying bastard is on T.V.”
Chomps had made it to the T.V. stand and was now trying unsuccessfully to jump up and bite the T.V. screen.
“He has spirit in him,” Zeke stated, “I think he’ll make a good guard dog. You think I can have him when he’s old enough to be taken from his mother.”
“Don’t think his mother will mind.”
“Good. I have a job for him.”

“Oh, poor Chomps,” Laura said as she came in the room with President Bush, “He looks like a little angel there.” Chomps thrashed about some more on his bed. “A very violent angel.”
“Like Michael,” Bush suggested.
“Don’t you two have some campaigning to do?” Rumsfeld said irately.
“We’re supposed to make Kerry look an idiot,” Bush replied, “but right now, no one is doing a better job than John Kerry. So now I don’t have much to do.”
“And we brought Barney to help cheer up Chomps,” Laura said as he held up the Scotty dog to Chomps.
“Yipe! Yipe!” Barney said.
Chomps made a slight movement of his head and swallowed Barney whole.
“That could be a choking hazard!” the veterinarian yelled as he leapt into action.

“Now, Chomps,” Zeke said, “You stay by this tool shed and keep the students away. These Berkeley kids don’t know right from wrong, and I don’t want them stealing my tools. Do you understand?”
The little puppy gnawed at the rope that tied him to the shed.
“No. You stay on your leash,” Zeke told him, “Just keep those people away from here.” Zeke motioned to all the students walking buy.
Chomps barked violently at the students.
“Good puppy,” Zeke said and then walked off.
After a while of barking, Chomps got tired of not being able to bite them. He then went back to chewing on the rope.
“Look at the poor dog tied up,” said a Hippy as he walked up to Chomps, “People don’t own animals.”
Chomps watched silently as the hippy untied the rope.
“There you go, little animal.” The hippy reached over to pet the puppy, but all he saw was teeth.

“Now can anyone tell us the advantages of the just system of Communism over evil Capitalism?” the professor asked. He looked around the students seated in front of him. “How about the small hippy in the back.”
The small hippy ran towards the professor.
“You don’t need to come forward,” the professor said, “Wait, you kind of look like an angry puppy.” The hippy was only a yard away. “A very angry puppy.”
Chomps shed his hippy outfit and then got up the professor’s pants leg. “AHHH!” the professor screamed, “DON’T BITE ME THERE!”

“Here’s your dog back, ma’am.”
“Yipe! Yipe!” Barney said as the veterinarian handed him over to Laura.
“Next time, bring a dog easier to swallow so you don’t choke Chomps,” Rumsfeld grumbled, “Now what can you do for Chomps, doc?”
“He’s simply too violent to do any procedures on,” the veterinarian said, “We just have to wait and hope he gets better.”
“Wait, I know someone wise who may be able to help us,” Bush said as he took out his cell phone.

“Your dog has constantly attacked students and professors the whole time he is here!” the president of Berkeley yelled at Zeke.
“He only attacked those who deserved it,” Zeke responded.
“He attacked a lamp post.”
“One that was poorly placed,” Zeke asserted, “I know he seems like a bad dog, but he’s good in heart. If you just give him another chance…”
Chomps broke through the door, reducing it to splinters. He then tackled the president to the ground and repeatedly bit him. “AHHHH!”
“This isn’t going to help Chomps’s case,” Zeke sighed.

Zatoichi slowly entered the room, tapping his cane on the ground in front of him.
“What does a blind samurai know about comatose dogs?” Rumsfeld demanded.
“What doesn’t he know?” Bush responded.
Ichi set a candle on a table near Chomps and lit it. “Dog’s anger is like fire. It needs fuel to burn, or else it dies out. When flame is gone, so is the spirit of the demon dog.”
“So how do you make a dog in a coma angry?” Rumsfeld asked.
“I already gave you wisdom,” Ichi answered, “Now you give me 30 bu.”
“30 bu!” Bush shouted and then turned to Laura. “Do you have any silver on you, honey?”
“What gives you the idea I keep around pieces of silver,” Laura chided.
“Fine.” Bush took a leather pouch from under his suit jacket and paid Ichi.
“Keep fighting, boy,” Rumsfeld said as he pet Chomps on his side. Chomps continued to bite randomly in the air but slower now as the candle near him burned away.
TO BE CONTINUED…
If you buy Chomps t-shirt!