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Commie's Story |
May 18, 2007 11:00am |
I realized recent that Friendster might delete Commie's profile anyday now and well her bio is too important to let them do away with it. So I'm reposting it here just in case. Read it if you have a chance. It's to die for. 
I was born in a small village in rural Mexico. My papi was a scottish ex-pat Jack Russel who found my village just long enough to knock up my chihuahua mami and head off to glamorous beach towns. I spent my early years as a semi professional salsa dancer, but quickly got caught up with the wrong crowd as I fell into a circle of corrupt gangster salsa club owners. Things were flying high until a massive government crack down landed me 20 years in Hacienda National Prison, the grittiest female dog prison south of Baja. After doing my time (these years are much too traumatic to revisit) I returned to a village that had long forgotten me. I said my goodbyes and headed across the border to America, the melting pot of diggies from all over the world, the last source of hope for my unloved mixed-nreed bastard of an ex salsa dancer. After wriggiling under a fence in the blistering Texas heat, I was scooped up by a man promising free passage to a place called Boston in exchange for 6 months of service for his sea food restaurant for minimum doggie wage. Day after day I scrubbed dishes as I watched dozens of house dogs getting walked and pampered by their owners, I knew this was the life for me so I sabatoged my return to the clean world and went back to what I knew best. I quit my job and went to sign up as a fighting dog in the underground fighting pits of Cambridge. I was bought by a bastard named Rosko. After a dismal 0-14 start, Rosko called me useless and banished me into the basment of his apartment building. A shivered there for 5 days, unfed and cold until that fateful day, Thanksgiving 2003. I was taken in by Thomas and finally given the opportunity to be a real house dog. I now spend my days not moving, watching TV, getting fed and stroked all the time. On occasion I think back to the wilder days, the Mexico city drug binges, prison orgies, and the cutthroat underground fights, but I dont miss it a bit. Now I much prefer making sparkly things.
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