The Fighting Machine


The Fighting Machine

By Big Daddy Cash

 

Hello stranger! I’d like to get to know you and I’m sure you’d like to know me. My name is Sir Bull and I’m the mighty fighter. I’m ready at all times, to take on all things anywhere I’m needed. Big Daddy Cash is helping me write my story but he’s teaching Webookers how to post their stories and present them in a way that draws the readers’ attention. He and I will be writing my story but Cash will be tripping back and forth, tap-dancing from here to there. I could have got a better writer but Cash invented me so I think I’ll have to stick with him.

Cash gave me a master named Bobby Hope. I really didn’t get to know him well because Cash took him away and sent him to war. Before Bobby left for war, he taught me how to fight. Fight for what was right, fight for freedom and fight for all of my kind. You see Bobby was a hero, never thinking of himself, always of others. What I learned from Bobby has also made me a hero of sorts. I fight for the rights of all the doggies and cats that are seeking freedom from the human society and animal shelters. I’m the mighty fighting machine.

I’m packing my bags, all my weapons and ammunition, getting ready to go to Great Falls Montana where a war is going on between the wanted and the unwanted. This could be the beginning of another World War. I’m not sure yet which side I’m going to fight on. I’m wanted by the unwanted and wanted by the wanted, it’s a tough decision.

I wish Daddy Cash was here to write for me. He told me he was off to get a Webooker posted, whatever that means. My plane leaves in two hours and my story hasn’t even been started. I might have to write it myself on the plane. The problem is that I have seen the flight attendant or stewardess whichever she’s called. And “WOW” she’s a knock out.. With her scooting up and down the isle, I might not be able to concentrate. I love all the lady dogs but I’m partial to those two-legged sweethearts. Can’t help it! That’s how God made me.

Wow, I’m out here on the veranda looking up in the beautiful sky. There’s a little white cloud right above me that looks like a little God’s Angel. I know it’s just a cloud but I’d swear she’s looking down at me. She is so beautiful I want to sigh. She’s the first four-legged angel I’ve ever seen. Really, to tell the truth, I’ve never seen an angel. got to go, somebody is knocking at my door.

It was just the cab driver, smart brazen human. He looked at me and said; “you’re just a dog” and I said; “I’m not just a dog, I’m Sir Bull the Fighting Machine.” The damn two-legged fool just laughed. Sometimes I get so mad at those humans.

“Ha! Ha! I’m not supposed to let animals ride in my cab but just this once, I’ll make an exception. Come on little fellow, I want to hear your story.” Can you believe it? He wants to hear my story. I should tell him to wait for the book to be printed and go to Amazon and buy it. But I won’t I feel like pulling his leg a little.

I looked at the clock on his dashboard, my God it was a quarter to eight. I barked at the driver and said just as calm as I could; “My damn plane leaves at eight o’clock, Can you get me there in 15 minutes?” and he said; “I doubt it but I’ll try” We pulled into the airport at 10 minutes past eight.

The cabby said he was sorry but we were too late to catch my flight. I said; “Hell No! They’ll wait for me. I’m their only VIP, I’m Sir Bull The Fighting Machine.” Well, I was wrong again, the plane left right on schedule.

The next flight was in two and a half hours so I turned to the taxi driver and asked him if he still wanted to hear my story. He said; “Sure little fellow, you were my last fare so I’m in no hurry. Let’s get a drink and go sit in the garden patio.” I don’t drink but I wanted to tell my story. But now I’d do anything to tell my story. I just want somebody to listen.

The cabby ordered two drinks, he didn’t even ask me what I wanted. The waitress served us two drinks with olives. I don’t know what they were, I just wanted to tell my story. The cabby leaned comfortably back in his recliner and slowly sipped on his drink, He said; “Okay little fellow, let’s hear your story.” Damn it! I wish he’d quit calling me “little fellow”.

“You are going to really like my story. It’s thrilling and plumb full of excitement” He took a big slug of his drink and started coughing and gagging. His face turned dark blue and by God, he dropped dead. I mean deader than a door-nail. I asked the doctor what killed him, He said; “He swallowed two olives.”

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