Stewart Goes to the 24 Hour Veterinarian's

Stewart goes to the 24 Hour Veterinarian’s

It had been three months since Stewart bought the bottle of Fahrenheit cologne at the mall kiosk but was yet to get laid. The mailman accidentally spit on him on Wednesday; Stewart was standing in the rose bushes below the porch and the spit landed on his Rolling Stones Steel Wheels Tour t-shirt. "I didn't see you there, Stewart," the mailman explained but Stewart thought he sounded insincere.

At church Stewart prayed that he would get laid or at least find someone to perform oral sex on him. "I think I would be more productive at the office and I wouldn't fight with my mom as much…" he bargained with God through the intercession of Saint Jude. He paid one dollar and lit a candle. As he stared into the candle he saw a vision of Mel Gibson giving birth to a crucified child underwater.
The priest saw Stewart weeping and tried to console him, "what is the matter, my son? Are you gay, again?"

"No," Stewart explained, "Thanks to the retreat I am no longer repulsed by the idea of having sex with a woman. I love boobs, now."
"And your dog?" the priest asked.

Stewart's dog choked on his own vomit on the second Wednesday in April. They went to the emergency room but the receptionist sent everyone (Stewart, his mom, his dog and the reporter) to a 24 hour veterinarian's office located in an old house that smelled like a barn. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Stewart's mom was wearing oversized Umbro soccer shorts and the faux-leather couch stuck to her fat thighs and made a peeling noise when she stood up.

The receptionist wore a white lab coat so she could conduct experiments when she was not answering the phone. Stewart smiled at her thinking, "this may be the woman I will have sex with." The doctor arrived after 40 minutes and he smelled like alcohol but he did a professional job. He examined Stewart's dog and even put his gloved index finger into his rectum up to the knuckle; the dog made a strange noise like a ship's horn in the fog. Finally, he prescribed a selective semantic nuero reuptake capitulator which cured the animal. A hundred and thirty bucks.

Stewart eventually taught his dog to play Tic Tac Toe by using cardboard cut-outs of X's and O's that he rubbed in between pieces of liverwurst. In an imaginary interview on Wednesday Stewart's dog told the reporter: "A person doesn't even have time to play out one hundred games in the mind and still make a move in a reasonable amount of time. However, a human can compensate with experience and reasoning."