King Phillip Came Over For Guinness Stout

gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, hung up his fedora, and called out, "what's for supper, danny boy?"

"hot dogs," danny blake replied as he poured a beer.

"just hot dogs?" cardigan sounded disappointed as he took the beer.

"okay, spicy mango-pineapple hot dogs, to be precise."

"now you're talking.  i'll take two to start," cardigan grinned.

sierra charles pushed an empty stool toward cardigan.  "cop a squat, cardigan, and tell us about your day."

"i'm investigating the background of a duck hunter who wrecked his truck coming back from a hunt," the private investigator told them.  "a pediatrician was driving by and stopped to provide medical care.  the hunter was unharmed but his dog couldn't breathe, so the pediatrician performed an emergency tracheotomy."

"did the dog live?" Mysterious Lurker asked anxiously, reaching down to scratch monte the pub dog behind the ears."

cardigan took a swig of beer and nodded.  "yes, the doctor saved his life.  however, he can't bark anymore, which makes him useless for duck hunting.  so, the hunter is suing the doctor for malpractice."

"that's not right!" marian elfman exlaimed.  "i hope a duck sues the hunter for...for malhunting!"

danny chuckled as he delivered the hot dogs.  "there's probably a lawyer already working on that."

cardigan nodded.  "no doubt.  thanks, danny.  these look great."  he took a bite then continued.  "so i'm helping the doctor's lawyer build a case that the hunter is an unfit master for the dog."

"good for you, cardigan!" sierra punched him on the shoulder.

monte woofed and wagged his tail.

tucker strummed an A-minor chord and began singing:

they say it's a dog's life
what's that really mean?
lots of bones and frisbees
not a drop of listerine
i don't dream of rabbits
i don't bite the mailman's leg
you'll never catch me howling
and i won't sit up and beg
  i'm a dog
  i'm a dog
  if you think you understand my life
  your brain is full of fog
  i'm a dog
  i'm a dog
  just because you scoop my poop don't
  mean you know the real scoop
  i'm a dog

linda nulo applauded her boyfriend.  "i like that one, honey!  but i thought you were a cat person?"

"mother tucker is a dog person so i've been around dogs all my life," tucker explained, oblivious to the giggling inspired by this explanation as he continued:

they say i've got nine lives
how do they know that?
did they live the life of every
other once-live cat
you feed me friskies beef stew
i just wonder how
nobody ever thought to make
mouse-flavored kitten chow
  i'm a cat
  i'm a cat
  if you think you understand my life
  your brain is full of crap
  i'm a cat
  i'm a cat
  when i'm away, the mice will play
  but you're away today
  i'm a cat

"that's true," gavin observed.  "cats don't eat cows and sheep.  cat food should be mouse-flavored, or sparrow-flavored, not beef- or lamb-flavored."

"ewww," marian wrinkled her nose.  "that's gross."

"what about the ducks?" the Lurker asked.  "do you have a verse for them, too?"

"water off a duck's back"
that's what people say
when all their petty problems
just up and fall away
we don't deal with politics or
economic slumps
we don't get prescriptions filled
when we're down in the dumps
  i'm a duck
  i'm a duck
  if you think you understand my life
  you brain is full of muck
  i'm a duck
  i'm a duck
  i walk like one, i quack like one,
  i take to water like one
  i'm a duck

"you know what i've always wondered?" sierra wondered out loud.  "if you call a female duck a duck and male duck a drake, shouldn't donald and daffy be known as donald drake and daffy drake?"

"and why do they both have speech impediments?" the Lurker put in.  "that seems rather...racist, doesn't it?"

"ducks aren't another race," marian noted.  "there another species, genus, order, and class altogether.  you should say orderist or classist instead of racist."

"i would have thought classist would describe discrimination based on social class rather than on class within the animal kingdom," taylor mused.  "how about keeping it simple and just saying duckist?"

"i miss conversations like this," caridgan muttered as he drained his beer.

"really?" shakespeare asked as he bussed the tables.

"no."