So Joji sat, ruminating on his trash pile. Occasionally another shit-dog moseyed past ...
Episode One: In which Joji is challenged for his booty by Meeong, assaulted by young hoods, and eventually witnesses the destruction of good spinach.
Joji, Sassang's scruffiest, scrappiest and stinkiest little shit-dog was sprawled atop Thurday's rubbish pile with his nose deep in a diaper. This entire pile of leaking, half-rotted kimchi and pig bones, chicken wings and slimy two day old rice, it was all his until dawn. He rubbed his nose in the diaper and liked what it did for him so rubbed a little more behind his ears and on the scruff of his neck. Shit appetizers before the grand feast.
As Joji nibbled turds and kimchi, the tall funny looking neighbor, by them name of Mi Gook Nome, walked past sucking a beer. “Here Joji,” he whistled, “C'mere so I can give you a pat. How come your owners never bathe you anymore? You look so nasty nowadays. You stop by my place and I'll fatten you up for my soup!” and with that, Mi-Gook Nome laughed, tossed his empty beer can on the pile and moved on. Joji crawled over and licked out some beer. Surely, on a hungrier night he'd be by Mi Gook Nome's room for some extras. Mi Gook Nome always had some new, unconventional flavors in his rubbish bin.
So Joji sat, ruminating on his trash pile. Occasionally another shit-dog moseyed past, nosed around the outside Joji's pile and huffed in a jealous whiff before scooting away with Joji's warning yap. Yeeong, the kink-tailed cat crept past grinning. A scarred alley-vet twice Joji's size, she came close enough to covet a tuna can from the margins. He let her be. Though Joji could defeat any cat on the block, Yeeong was a formidable foe. She could rip out most shit-dogs' eyes without a twitch of her clubby crook tail. Anyways the real feasts were still to come. Why not share with neighbors after all? It's Jjung. “Huff huff grr… you Yeeong! Take your tuna and scat!”
Yeeong, moaned low inside her chest. She flicked her stump and grinned. “Come down and take it!” – then, zip! Yeeong slipped under a car, parked baggy with Joji's booty pile.
Joji was too happy now. No need to get up. Baby shit always made him sleepy. He dozed beneath his diaper a while. He dreamed of stacks of dirty diapers for him and Jerry the shit-bitch to roll around and sniff butts in together.
Then, suddenly, he was knocked awake and tumbling off his pile. A shoe had struck his head. He knew the smell too well. It was Min-Young, his ex-owner. It must be about 10 pm by man's clock, he thought, my little girl and her brother Young Suck are just out of school. “Yah! You stupid shit-dog! You're so ugly my daddy'd eat you in his soup if you weren't so skinny! Eighteen dog baby! She clapped and danced around when the next shoe landed. Young-Suck, that mealy-mouthed little brat stood picking crust off the edge of his nose, giggling as Joji tumbled down and hid behind a gingko tree.
Joji could not betray his love for the children. He just thumped his little tail and smiled, wiggling his butt and twisting himself up as dogs do. Once these two, they loved him so. They held him and fed him bowls of old rice and fish bones. They bounced old socks in his face and called him darling. They dressed him up like a baby sometimes, died his ears pink and painted his toenails. The memories, now almost two years past, were still fresh. He could never hate them. They were his children and even after betrayal he'd defend them with his life - so long as it wasn't some big man that could hurt him. But he could yap at anyone. He used to stand behind Min-Young and yip at anybody that so much as smiled at his kids. Why, he'd yap all night if the wind was funky or if a drunken neighbor was out fighting the rose bushes.
Eventually the kids moved on, while Joji remained behind the gingko. Soon he heard a rummaging through his trash. It was Jwee Jwee the rat. Joji crept up to Jwee, closer and closer. Then - pounce! Twenty feet from the rat, Joji let out a powerful “yapyapyaaap!” and bounded in for the kill! He chased the rat all the way to the kale patch before stopping. There, at the patch, he'd heard human noises in the dark. Two humans. Min Young and Young Suck's dad was in the garden with a female. Joji sucked in a snout full of Kimchi and soju from the coupe – ooh! What a stink! Similar to the diaper but more disgusting. Joji crept in closer. They were rolling around, smashing the baby spinach. Moaning. Groping. Ooh, Joji knew Young Suck's mom wouldn't be happy about this. She loved spinach.
Joji had seen this before. Last time it was that young foreigner, Mi Gook Nome, with a Korean college girl. But with Young Suck's dad it was different. They seemed not to know what to do. They pressed faces, roughly rubbed cheeks, knocked noses and scraped teeth together. Their hugs were awkward. They grasped and swayed stiffly as arthritic snakes with a rheumatic snake charmer. He liked watching the foreigner and his Korean bitch better. Joji liked to sneak up to their window, to watch, and sniff the funk of foreigners and Koreans intertwined. The foreigner and his bitch knew the value of butt sniffing and licking too. The foreigner's nose was always between his bitch's legs. They were like shit-dogs in heat, those two, sniffing, scratching, growling, woofing and humping shit-doggie style. How come the drunken Koreans never tried it shit dog-style? Maybe, he thought, it was Nome's scent. The Koreans smelled like garlic and soju, not the most attractive smell for love-making and butt-sniffing. But the foreigner was different. He smelled like, like - like beef stew. What female of any persuasion, be it shit-dog, Korean, Wae-Gook or alley-cat, could fight off the edible attraction of a cow? Just thinking about it made him salivate, so Joji crept away from the drunken love-makers in search of something new, maybe Mi-Gook had an old hamburger, or a pot of beef stew waiting for him.
Joji's Episode Two: In which Joji joins forces with the legendary Jin Do and saves the peninsula from imminent destruction
Joji The Shit-Dog lay panting beneath a make-shift soju platform. He rolled his head across the ground, enjoying evening's monsoon breeze and watching children steeped in twilight's glow dance with their shadows in the streets. Their faces were covered with dust and sweat, and ice-cream fudge and sticky soda. His face was sticky also, for a drunken neighbor had left Joji with a pleasant golden-shower earlier. He licked slowly savoring the gritty street seasonings stuck to the nape of his neck, occasionally lifting his piss-wet nose to the wind. Above his head old women sipped dong-dong-ju, slapped poker chips and rubbed their rheumy knuckles. They felt it in their knees they said, inside their skulls, this heavy rain weighed over them like a wet woolen blanket. For Joji's light shit-doggy constitution, the heavy swaying of the trees, the electric swirl of lowering clouds and the sparse putter of raindrops cast exotic fragrances into his nostrils. The rising reek of hot tarmac intermingled with week-old kimchi juices baked in the sun signified something inexplicable for Joji. Yes, he was restless. His little doggy bones longed for newness.
Joji heard commotion up in Mi-Gook Nome's place. He sniffed: a new bitch. He'd have a look, so flattened himself down and squeezed under the gate then hopped up the narrow uneven stairs two by two, delicately jumped onto the dusty chair below Nome's window and peered in. The pale, chubby young man with the fuzzy abdomen lay naked on the floor tilting a fan intermittently at his sweating neck and crotch. His latest bitch stood up in black panties, high heels and thick glasses, struggling to take the fan. Nome tugged back, sweating excessively despite the cool wind. His bitch spoke. “Hey! Man! You wanna die? Jeeshush Chrise! Dis Fan kill you, man! Ah! Fucking! Gib me dis! Ugh! You pall aslif and it suck out duh oh-two! You unnastan? Dis fan crazy, ugh fucking gimme!”
“Oh, leave me alone! I'm dying of heat rash for crying out loud! Do you want me to cook? If you don't like it then sleep in the other room.” Poor stupid Nome, he should know better. Joji trotted back down towards his stoop.
Before reaching the gate he detected a faint motion ahead. He watched a white, ghostly apparition slink through the shadows between the parked cars and benches. The creature moved at a silent lope, its head down as if trailing. Joji recognized the scent. It was that most cunning, wolfish dog; that malicious deceiver, the Jindo dog. Joji followed from a distance. It was said that an un-tethered jindo would gobble a shit-dog with one snap and three quick wags of the head. Joji had actually witnessed one male Jindo thrashing its own pup into a limp, lifeless sack.
Such was the proud heritage of the shit-dog, within whom the bravery and cunning genius of the Jin-do was yet sharp and pure without the savage animal cruelty still coursing through the veins of the primitve Jindo. Oh, Joji knew his heritage, for were they both not white, barking creatures that loved to roll in shit and wander abroad in search of hot bitches? So, with equal stealth, Joji hightailed after his distant cousin, praying the wolf was too far consumed with the hunt to notice.
Joji galloped at lightning pace, his little legs flying above him at every bound. Above him the trees whipped about like palm fronds. The air smelled more and more of wet, and occasionally drops flecked his ears. Joji could feel his primordial instincts sharpening with the hunt, with this primal call to the chase, of whatever it was they were after. Was it boar perhaps? He'd heard tell there was wild pig in yonder villas. Maybe it was the elusive fluff-tailed rat, a creature subsisting on acorns, known to climb so high that Joji had yet to see one. Maybe it was the vicious weasel that always stole Joji's share of quail eggs.
Could it be that wicked assassin of drunken men on nights such as this, as they slept naked in newly painted small concrete rooms with absolutely no ventilation? The electric fan was perhaps Korea's most dangerous beast. Together though, with Joji's wisdom and the reckless spirit of a pack young Jindos, perhaps they could hold back a formidable fan onslaught, then perhaps they'd be local heroes. Maybe Min-Young would take Joji back into her bosom to bathe him after a good roll in the turds, paint his nails pink and clothe him in that stupid pink plastic go-go outfit he was forced to parade around in for doggy treats. He'd gladly succumb, if only she'd take him back.
For a long time the two rolled past city scenes at a marvelous pace. They traveled through winding back-alleys and skirted the tips of hillside parks. Joji watched the lithe white specter gliding through the darkness ahead as it dove into primeval forest, into the thick darkness of shrubbery and pumpkin vines, away from the revealing streetlights. With a haughty snuff, Joji then followed suit. These were not his woods. In fact Joji was entirely lost. But there was no time for thought now, for the call to hunt was upon him.
Here in fact Joji had the advantage, for while the Jindo leaped over every vine and shrub, Joji nosed through effortlessly. He found himself holding back to avoid stumbling into Jindo's lengthy fangs. From where he crouched, Joji saw the mad glint of blood lust in the Jindo's red eyes. Its tongue lolled out, swollen and pink and dripping - drooling for live meat, Joji supposed. Then it turned. It looked at Joji and panted its recognition.
“Greeting cousin, and good hunting,”
“Woof! Mung mung! How did you see me and why do you enter my woods?” Joji scrunched back against the vines, utterly quaking, ready to flee in an instant.
“Your woods? Have you not been following me for fifteen minutes now? Did I not beckon you from the stairs of that fat stupid foreigner?”
“Woof!”
“Enough! Listen. We've been summoned for a deeper calling, Joji… the shit dog. Look around. What do you see? What do you smell? What do you sense?” Above, the sky swirled with electric energy. Joji took in the sky, and breathed deeply. He smelled doggy smells. Out of the vines crept doggies: a tiger striped Jin-dog with battle-scars across his chops; Lassie, a Miniature Dobie from a few blocks over and a formidable opponent. He recognized Sally the castrated Maltese and Bingo the one-eyed pug. There were others too, all gazing upward. The great white one, the Jindo that Joji followed, sneered and licked his chops as he motioned toward the hill's peak. Lightning rolled through the air in balls of white and the smell of ozone wafted into Joji's drying nostrils. A deserted building at the hill's peak hummed like the black wings of countless angry black wasps. Joji shuddered. He knew this sound not, but it sounded so cruel, so sickening.
“Canine comrades: tonight we join for the cause to which all dogdom is sworn – protection of man! Tonight we manifest our inherent duty to save them - from destruction they've brought upon themselves! Yonder hill holds an old electrical parts warehouse. It's has become an electric fan graveyard! On this night the fan power has reached its apex. No less than three million fans spin in Busan tonight. And so they strike! Their legions will throttle the city, fanning every naked passed out drunkard with its noxious Fumes of Death, sucking the life from their lips like Yeeong's cats on the chests of sleeping babes. But we shall not allow it this night! We shall not let the sun rise to a city of Fan-Dead!
Instinctively, the prodigious pack of Poodles, Pinschers, Pugs, Pekingese, Wild Jin-Dogs, and the menacing mob of little shitters unleashed a blood-curdling yodel, raising the hackles of every cat in the borough. As one, they crashed headlong up into battle. They ransacked the fence, dug holes beneath the wires and even climbed over. Inside the building, the room was alive with the wicked whir of death. The very air was stagnant with ozone. Joji gagged, lolled out his and let drip. He cleared his throat and spit phlegm with the skill of an ajumma. Then he leaped at the nearest fan. The vicious wings thumped on his nose, chipped a tooth. Joji leaped back to reassess. He looked to The Great White One and saw he'd tallied ten fans thus far. “Happy Hunting little Joji!” he howled “Try your tail!” Joji stuck his little tail in the fan, which wrapped around in the base of the fan, effectively choking out its life.
His sore tail was soon twisted and kinked like that of Yeeong the alley cat, but in this way he killed countless fans while keeping his nose out of fans' fumes. This method was adopted by many a pooch. The stubby and curly tailed Pekingese and Pugs pounced on fans in bulldog-fashion while the dock-tailed Dobies tore into them with vicious little noses. But the fans grew wary. Avoiding tails they sprayed the shitters with their gasses, chilled Chihuahuas with gusts of icy wind and dropped their cages to catch Pug paws and knock at the teeth of ferocious little Dobies.
The winning was waning for the drowsy doggy do-gooders. Many a dog dragged himself from the fray and out into the night for one last gasp of O2 before crawling into the bush for a nap. Joji had climbed atop a pile of dead fans for reassessment. He tallied the remaining shitters, so few, while the eye-burning reek of Fan-Death swirled beneath him as if he were lost on a boiling sea of bad kimchi. Only the noble Chin-dogs unflaggingly fought; their noses dry and scabby; their tails toughened with every twist. Joji had sat through many a game of go-stop, so he knew the odds now. He knew that bravery alone could not pull them through.
He then contemplated such a shitty fate. Was this what he deserved for his years as man's best friend? Hadn't man effectively deserted him? Hadn't Min Young thrown stones at him and her father trampled the spinach? Maybe it was time he thought of himself. But what could he do? He was stuck on this pile of dead fans. The doors were barred by a platoon of rotators - from left to right. Below there was battle. Wherefore poor Little Joji? How to escape certain death? Joji searched exits, all covered. He looked for spots to hide, but saw none. He looked for windows and all were screened with a heavy mesh. Then he noticed something just above his nose. It was a long metal handle with a lightning bolt sign. Joji had seen the drunken ajushis turn off lights in the street shacks with this! In a flash Joji leaped for it. His head smashed against the wall and he began to slide. His little feet scampered and dug against the wall for paw-holds, but found none. So he slid down, but as he slid past the handle the pink collar that Min-Young left him with caught on the handle. He was strangling himself now, dangling from the handle of man's last hope. His feet ran sprints through the air and he felt his face twisting for want of air. He pulled his back feet up and tried to wrench himself free but for naught. And then, just as his body started to go limp, he felt teeth on his tail. It was Great White to his rescue! White yanked twice and the handle budged. Joji hit the concrete alive, sucking fresh air as the whir of fans diminished.
The room went silent but for the rhythmical sigh of exhausted doggy pants. Jin-Dogs lay licking wounds, shitters and runts crawled outdoors upon their knees, whimpering and whining. Joji and Great White sat silently for some time, battle weary but of like-mind. Finally, Great White spoke. “Never again, oh Joji the Shit-Dog, shall I doubt the wile and cunning of a cur such as you,” and with this he turned and trotted out of the room. Joji crawled out whimpering. He slid into a cool furrow of damp earth and slept through the dawn.
MILF slut wife
posted by Best-Mature at 2:24 AM
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