Metal City - Hai Ina Ia Mai Ana Ka Puana

Bronnie The Dog In.... "Beauty Therapy".

It wasn't ALL bad news for Bronnie The Dog today. But on a day as cold and grey as today, even the littlest piece of bad news could seem like a lot - and without even realising it, you can find yourself wishing you were back in bed waiting for tomorrow. For Bronnie, things were certainly headed in that direction. When she woke up, the morning air was horribly, horribly cold - and there are no blankets for dogs, no pillows to hug or quilts to grind into. So, she curled up on the green mat that sat at the end of David's bed, and wrapped her tail beneath her chin, closing her eyes and trying not to shiver too noisily - the chattering of her teeth has been known to wake David up, something he takes not too kindly to.

When she woke up, and dared to venture out into the house, the cold, wooden boards of the floor had been chilled to such a degree that the little black pads on her toes seemed to shiver on their own - and she scampered across the floor as quickly as she could, taking special care to avoid tripping on any of the cords that criss-crossed the hallways, and making sure that she didn't knock over Mum's very special vases or china dolls. Knocking over one of Mum's very special china dolls is the kind of thing that can take an already bad day, and drag it into the realms of something so horrible that it doesn't bear thinking about.

The fire had been lit, and the cream coloured mat - not the green one - was sitting in front of it. All warm and toasty, and waiting for her to curl up and sleep the rest of the morning. She smiled, and dashed towards it - whinnying as she felt her feet slowly turning to ice - and made a leap, landing on the centre of the mat, and immediately flopping onto her side, her eyes scrunched tightly shut, and a smile fluttering on her lips.

"Bloody fire.", an angry voice rang out. "Bloody waste of money."

It was Jules - the angry human of the house. Bronnie opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was towering over her, all combover and toast, as he ate his breakfast and glared at the fireplace.

"That can go off. The house is warm enough now. Bloody waste of bloody money."

And, with that, Jules killed the fire dead in its tracks - and Bronnie sat in the darkness, feeling the wispy tendrils of cold slowly cutting their way through what remained of warm, dense air.

Eventually, she fell asleep - cuddling herself tightly, her teeth chattering noisily in the darkness. The curtains were still closed, and the lounge room was dark. She sniffled. This was turning out to be a simply awful day.

Finally, David emerged from his bedroom, and immediately went into the kitchen, turning on the kettle.

"Hey!", Bronnie called out. "Hey, you!"

"What?", David croaked back, followed by the clattering of coffee cups and cupboard doors.

"You think you could find your way clear to opening the curtains?"

David poked his head around the corner.

"What are you talking about?"

"The curtains.", Bronnie repeated, gesturing. "It's very dark in here. And cold. It's very cold."

David nodded, and wiped his eyes. "It is cold, isn't it? Turn the fire on, Bronnie."

Bronnie sniffed. "I can't. I don't have thumbs."

She could hear the sound of hot water pouring.

"Oh, whinge, whinge! Bronnie, you've simply got to learn how to do things for yourself. I can't run around after you forever, and -"

"LISTEN.", Bronnie snarled, walking into the kitchen and folding her arms across her chest. "It's cold, I haven't slept, you were snoring last night, and I want you to turn the frigging heater on. I don't need a lecture. Just do it, and let me get back to sleep."

David looked down at her, and smirked.

"Aren't you touchy today? Have a bad night, did we?", he asked.

"You KNOW I had a bad night. You kept me awake."

David blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Sitting up until all hours of the evening. Writing your silly shit on your silly website. What was it last night? Profound thoughts about Sly Stone? You pretentious loser."

"Pretentious? How is that pretentious? I just felt like writing about a record, there's nothing -"

"Don't even bother, David. We both know what you were doing, Mr. Look-At-Me-Look-How-Artsy-And-Intellectual-I-Am. We both know that you were trying to show off by talking about obscure rock albums, as though anybody gives a shit what you're listening to. And still referring to them as 'records'? They're CD'S, David. You sound like such a TOSSER when you call them 'records'."

"They were originally released -"

"- on vinyl. I know. That's not the point. You're just trying to sound intelligent and highbrow. Knock it off, you poser."

David sniffed, and stared at his feet. He took a sip from his coffee mug, and sat down in the lounge, flicking the T.V on without saying a word. Bronnie followed him in and sat down on her mat, staring at him from across the room.

After a while, she spoke up: "David?"

"What?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry. That was mean."

David shrugged. "S'Ok. You were just being honest."

"No, no. I wasn't. I was being mean. That was unfair of me."

David wiped at his eye with the back of his hand.

"Forget it, Bronnie. It doesn't matter. You're right - they're CD's. Not records."

Bronnie grunted. "It's fine. You call them whatever you like. I'm just having a bad day - it's cold, and it's dark."

"And you're going to have a bath. I know. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon, and -"

The hound leaped to her feet, her eyes wide and serious.

"What? I'm going to have a what?", she demanded.

"A bath. It's bath day. We've booked you into a place in South Morang. Isn't it exciting? You're going to look so pretty by the end!"

"Oh, no!", she howled. "Oh, no - no, you don't! Don't even think about it! I wasn't consulted about this! Not once! I REFUSE to go anywhere to be 'cleaned'. What makes you think I require assistance in my personal hygeine? Huh? Who made THAT presumption?"

"Well, Bronnie.", David said tenderly, "I didn't want to say anything - but... you're getting a bit woofy. And not in a cute way. You smell."

"Like what?"

"I don't know... a lot of things. Saliva. Rotten meat. Excrement. Matted fur. Moldy grass. You just kind of generally have a pongy air about you."

"Woofy? Pongy? I can't believe what I'm hearing. You're claiming that I smell like EXCREMENT? How dare you!"

David stood and walked over to her, kneeling down and scratching her behind the ears.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm just being honest. You stink like shit. You need a bath. Why, even being this close to you is making my eyes water.", he said softly.

"I can't smell anything..", Bronnie said quietly.

"No, well - you're probably desensitised to it. But, trust me, you smell truly awful."

The dog began to pout, and then her petulance gave way to defiance.

"I'm not going."

"What?"

She gritted her teeth firmly. "I'm not going. I don't need a bath."

"Oh. Bronnie.", David said quietly. "You do."

She sat with her back turned to him and scowled.

"I can't believe that it's come to this.", she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

She turned, and glared at him angrily.

"The truth finally comes out, doesn't it? When you least expect it, David, the truth comes out."

"What truth?", he asked.

She turned to face him, her eyes wet with tears.

"The truth that you think I smell. How long have you felt this way? Have you always felt like this? What about those nights - endless nights - where I slept on your bed? Did you think I was smelly then?"

David sighed. "Of course not. You're not always smelly. Just right now. Right now, honey, you need a bath. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

Bronnie stared pensively out at the expanse of emerald grass that blanketed the back garden, the morning dew twinkling on every blade, and a thin, yielding carpet of ivory mist hanging in strips from the tree branches.

"Okay.", she hissed. "I'll go."

David smiled, and went to get his shoes on, while Bronnie sat and stared.

"This day just keeps getting worse.", she whispered to herself.

__________________________________________

"Come on! Hurry up! Let's get this over with!", Bronnie called from the Torana.

"I'm coming!", David called out, pulling his boots on and searching though the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor, looking for his long, black overcoat.

Bronnie sniffled. "He wakes me up and makes me go to be deodorised. The least he can do is inject a little bit of urgency into the proceedings."

Still, David was crashing about inside, looking for keys and money and records - sorry, CD's - to play in the car.

Bronnie pulled the door shut and moved over to the driver's seat.

"Bugger him. If he can't get it together, I'll get myself there. Now, I wonder how this infernal contraption operates. The human drives it, so it can't be too difficult."

Bronnie put a paw upon the steering wheel, and began to move it back and forward.

"Come on!", she yelled. "Move!"

Reaching out and pulling a lever, the windscreen wipers began to move back and foward.

"No! That's not right! Damned obtuse machine!"

A knock on the window caused Bronnie to jump back.

"What do you think you're doing?", David asked.

"I'm getting out of here, that's what I'm doing.", Bronnie huffed. "If you're not going to hurry up, then I'll go alone."

David opened the door and shoved his hound passenger over.

"You can't drive. You don't even have your learner's permit.", David said, starting the engine.

"So? I don't need any blasted 'learner's permit'. Anyway, it's irrelevant now. Let's just get this over with."

So, the Torana pulled out of the driveway and sped towards the heart of South Morang. Bronnie sulked in her seat, occasionally rearing up on her hind legs to hiss and bark at another dog out on the street.

"See her?", she said, as they drove by a well-groomed terrier being walked by her owner.

"See who?"

"The terrier. The red one. We just went past her."

David nodded. "Yes. What about her?"

Bronnie shrugged and went on looking through the window. "Total whore."

David raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You heard me. She's a whore. She's banged most of the northern suburbs. Disgusting. What a bike."

"You know, it's not nice to spread those kind of rumours about people. Or dogs.", David scolded.

"They're not rumours if they're true.", Bronnie said nonchalantly. "I'm not saying anything that isn't true. She is... a.... S...L...U...T."

David sighed. "I don't want to hear about it. I really don't."

"She'd even shag you, David. Want me to hook it up?"

Looking down at the dog, David scowled darkly.

"Bronnie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't even go there."

Bronnie smirked, and spent the rest of the trip in silence.

__________________________________________

"You're a sweet little dog, aren't you?", Trish the Vet said, scratching Bronnie behind her ears.

"Silence, woman.", Bronnie snarled. "Just get it over with. Do your worst."

"Oooh!", Trish exclaimed. "She's a feisty one, isn't she?"

"Shut up!", Bronnie howled. "Just do it. Don't think I didn't see the sign outside. Arbeit Macht Frei. You foul Nazi."

"Bronnie," David interrupted, "The sign didn't say Arbeit Macht Frei. It said South Morang Animal Hospital."

"Ha!", Bronnie exclaimed triumphantly, as Trish began brushing Bronnie's fur. "Caught in your own web of evil! Read your history books, man. Great centres of war crime during the second world war - Auschwitz, Dachau, South Morang Animal Hospital."

"You're making that up.", David scoffed. "Completely."

"Go home and look it up, Mr. Unemployed Artist. We'll see."

"Hold still, Bronnie. I just need to -"

"Not the flame! Not the blowtorch! I'll tell you whatever you want to know!", Bronnie screamed.

"I don't want to know anything.", Trish said gently. "I just need you to put your foot down so I can brush your legs."

"My name is Bronnie The Dog. I'm not affiliated with any subversive political organization. I live in Greensborough. My captor's name is David. His main interest is pornography and -"

"She's just kidding about that.", David said nervously.

Trish smiled, and said nothing.

"First, we'll trim your fingernails, I think.", Trish said, picking up a pair of clippers.

"NO!", Bronnie howled. "Not the fingernails! David - quickly! Check for bamboo!"

David collapsed against the wall.

"There's no bamboo here, Bronnie. She's just going to -"

"I'll tell you NOTHING, you filthy Nazi slut. NOTHING."

Trish grinned. "You've already told me things."

"You get NOTHING more out of me. NOTHING, facist. Do you understand me?"

CLIP! A fingernail flew away.

"Argh! What are you doing? Stop that! Stop that immediately!"

"Nearly done, sweetheart.", Trish said softly.

Bronnie spat at her. "You facist slug. I'll kill you, escape this madness, and then - I'll save the free world. Don't think I won't."

Trish winked at her. "Not without a bath, you won't."

Bronnie shuddered. "A bath? What do you mean by a 'bath'?"

"Time for your Turbobath, Bronnie. Aren't you a good girl? When we're finished, you can have a biscuit. Won't that be nice?"

"Why don't you just give me a LAMPSHADE MADE FROM HUMAN FLESH?", Bronnie hissed, as she was lowered into the tub.

Trish smiled, as Bronnie's feet hit the floor of the bath. She walked around in a circle, examining her new surroundings.

"Oh... my... god.", she whispered. "David! David, you've GOT TO GET ME OUT OF HERE."

"What's wrong?", David asked.

"Look where I'm in! I'm in the bath! THE BATH WITH NO WATER. It's '39 all over again! You have to help me, before she drops the tablet!"

"Oh, hush.", David said angrily.

"It's true! Help! Please! I won't peek in on you while you're pleasuring yourself ever, ever, EVER again. I swear!"

David giggled nervously. "She doesn't do that. Neither do I. I mean, she's -"

Trish nodded, and scrunched up her nose. "I don't want to know."

David gasped. "But, I -"

"David! I can smell gas! Can you smell it?", Bronnie howled as she thrashed about.

Sniffing the air, David frowned. "Yes, I can smell gas. What have you done in there? What have you been eating, dog?"

"Shut up! It's not me this time! It's -"

Bronnie hooked her paws over the edge of the tub.

"RELEASE ME!", she screamed. "I simply refuse to be treated in this way! Of all the infuriating arrogance! Let me out, I say!"

"Hush, Bronnie.", David said.

Trish produced a bottle of soap, and squeezed some into her hand.

"You'll like this. You'll -"

"Not the acid! Not on my skin! No!"

"You'll feel so much better. You're going to be so pretty!"

"Shut up, Nazi! David - you've got to help me! Help me!"

"Woah, there.", Trish said calmly, picking up Bronnie's front paws and lowering her back into the bathtub. "We can't have you running away!"

Bronnie cowered in the corner of the tub. She whispered softly to herself.

"Our father... who art in heaven... hallowed be thy name..."

Trish stared at her.

"What's she doing?", the Vet asked nervously. David shrugged.

"She's praying."

Bronnie hissed: "Thy will be done... on earth, as it is in heaven... lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for.."

Her voice trailed off. She opened her eyes and looked around.

"David.", she whispered. "What's the next bit?"

David blinked. "You expect me to know?"

"You had some kind of religious education at school, didn't you?"

"Sort of. We mainly just drew massive erections on the pictures of Jesus we got in those weird textbooks."

"Damn.", she spat. Then, realising what she'd just said, she looked up at the sky. "Sorry."

"Just make up the rest.", David said. "I'm sure God won't notice."

"You don't think so?"

"Nah. He's heard it a billion times. Probably be refreshing for him."

"Okay.", Bronnie said slowly. "For thine is the... thing that we're all afraid of. And don't send me to Hell, because I bet Nixon is there. And look after Mum and Dad and Fatso. And get David a job. That doesn't involve cleaning up sperm at porno theaters. Amen."

"Amen.", David quietly, crossing his chest.

Bronnie shut her eyes tightly.

"Do your worst, Nazi whore!", she cried out.

Trish picked up the hose, and slowly lowered it into the tub. And then, with a flick of her wrist, the water began to gush out - striking Bronnie's coat, as the little dog raised her head to the sky and screamed wordlessly.

"It burns! IT BURNS!", Bronnie screamed, as Trish lathered up the soap. The little dog reared up on her hind legs and snarled.

"Release me!", she cried. "I command you to release me!"

"Ooh, I think she likes it.", Trish smiled. "Aren't you a good girl?"

"Shut up, whore! Your kind make me sick! You filthy Nazi trash - your kind should have died in the blazing inferno of Berlin!"

"Now, I'm just going to massage the soap into her coat - we need to get at any dirt that's at the very root of each hair."

"Why don't you get it over with and tattoo the bar-code on me, already? What sick game are you playing?", Bronnie spat, writhing in agony.

Trish looked up at David. "Very well behaved, isn't she?"

David stared at his feet, and sunk his hands into his pockets.

"Mmm."

"Look how cute she is!", Trish cried out, molding Bronnie's wet fur into spikes. "Aww, that's so gorgeous."

"That's it. Mock me. Strip me of my dignity.", Bronnie said, her voice broken and sad. "You may laugh at me, insult me, and rob me of everything that makes me Spitz, woman - but you'll never take my will to survive. Survive, I will. Make no mistake. And then, I'm coming for you. This isn't over. I'm -"

"I've never seen such a well-behaved animal, David. I'm amazed. She's being so good!"

"Uh, yeah.", David said quietly.

Bronnie looked up at David, and closed her eyes sadly.

"Et Tu, Fatso. Et Tu?"

"ENOUGH!", Bronnie howled. "LET ME OUT OF THIS DAMN OBSTREPOROUS DEVICE!"

"That's enough, I think.", Trish said, grabbing a towel. "Time to dry this little girl off."

Bronnie rose, putting her soggy paws on the rim of the bathtub.

"David - what's she doing? What's next? Oh, god. What's THAT?"

Trish was unrolling a long, orange hose. She spooled it out from beneath her desk, and put the nozzle into the bathtub with Bronnie.

"This will dry her off very quickly. They usually love it.", Trish said, reaching for a power switch.

"David... she's going to COOK ME. She's going to COOK ME ALIVE. No! It can't end like this. Are you BOTH going to devour me? Devour the flesh of the Spitz?"

Trish flipped the switch, and a burst of hot air shot into the bathtub, causing Bronnie's fur to fly upwards in all directions.

"She's got a lot of hair, hasn't she?", Trish exclaimed.

David nodded. "It drives Mum insane. It gets everywhere."

Bronnie snarled.

"Oh, another secret you weren't telling me? You and Mum have been discussing me behind my back? So, I stink AND I shed? Anything ELSE that's pissing the two of you off? Perhaps I AM better off dead - murdered at the hands of this Nazi bitch. Perhaps that's what you planned all along. It IS, isn't it?"

"I haven't been talking about you behind your back!", David exclaimed defensively.

"LIAR!", Bronnie growled.

"That's not so bad now, is it?", Trish asked, smiling as she dried Bronnie's fur.

"Silence, you loathsome hag. Just do your work. Get it over with."

"She really is a beautiful dog, David. What a sweet nature."

"Mmm.", David replied. "Sweet."

"She is!", Trish grinned, leaning down and pressing her face against Bronnie's snout. "Aren't you, darling?"

"Get away from me!", Bronnie yowled. "Back! Get back!"

"I think we'll get you up on the table and finish this off.", Trish said, reaching for a towel.

"The table..?", Bronnie hissed, aghast. "Don't you touch me, Mengele!"

"What's wrong now?", David asked wearily.

"She's going to operate! Don't you see? This is where she cuts out my eyes and replaces them with chewed bubblegum to see what the effect is on the non-Aryan mind! This is where she removes my spleen and replaces it with an alarm clock! David, get the door - I'll create a diversion! You get the car running, and I'll be there in a minute!"

"She's just going to finish drying you off, Bronnie. Calm down. Come on."

"Maybe she'd like a Schmacko?", Trish asked helpfully.

"Maybe you'd like the Allies reducing your cities to ashes! Maybe you'd like your children - and your children's children - to burn with a retaliation so massive, and so savage that it will live on beyond eternity."

"How many times a week do you brush her?", Trish asked, running the warm air over Bronnie's coat.

"Once or twice."

"I thought so. There's almost no matting. She's very, very well looked after."

David nodded. "We do try our best. She can be a handful, though."

Laughing, Trish gave Bronnie a hug. "I'm sure that's not true."

"David!", Bronnie cried out, "The Exterminating Angel keeps touching me! Make her stop! I don't know anything! Surely these Nazi savages don't -"

"All done!", Trish said, putting the hose down. "Don't you look gorgeous?"

Bronnie looked around. "That's it? You're going to let me go?"

"How much do I owe you, Trish?", David asked - fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket and blinking as the moths flew out from within.

"Thirty-five bucks. But it really was a pleasure meeting you both. Bronnie's such a good girl. Would she like a Schmacko?"

"A what?", Bronnie snarled. "David! What's that a code-word for?"

"Nothing. It's just something for you to eat. Go on - take one.", he said, reassuringly.

Trish held out the doggy treat, and Bronnie sniffed it suspiciously. Then, she broke into a broad smile.

"You think you'll get me that easily?", she said quietly, her voice slowly rising. "You think I'm that stupid? You're trying to poison me, aren't you? Don't try to lie, facist dog! Don't you dare try to lie to me. Well, it's not going to work. I'm too smart for you. Too smart. You think that just because you try and win me over with treats, I'll let myself be poisoned that easily? Don't make me LAUGH."

"Not hungry?", Trish said sadly. "Well - here. Take it with you, David. Maybe she'll want it on the way home."

David looked at Bronnie, who glared back in paranoid fury.

"Yes, maybe."

Out in the car, David looked at Bronnie - who was half asleep in the passenger's seat.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

She didn't reply.

"Come on. Trish was a nice lady. You can't tell me that any of it seriously hurt."

Bronnie shrugged. "Not really."

"So, what was that all about? Why were you calling her a Nazi?"

The little dog rolled over, one paw hanging over the edge of the seat.

"Oh, come on, David! You know what it's like. You wrote about it on your insipid web-page last night. Life's very boring. Sometimes, it's nice to spend a day pretending that you're somewhere else, someone else, and doing something else."

"So, you want to be an allied P.O.W during the last days of the second world war?", he said, raising an eyebrow. "You're weird."

"To each his own.", Bronnie said, smiling. "After all - as your hero Sly Stone said - 'different strokes for different folks'."

David reached down and fished the Schmacko out of his pocket, holding it out to her.

"Do you want this? I saved it for you."

Bronnie snarled, showing her ivory canines.

"Don't be stupid, David. It's poisonous. Remember?"

David shrugged, and put it back in his pocket. After all - on a day like today - who was he to argue?

Posted by David at June 28, 2005 01:31 PM | TrackBack