Canis Lupus Familiaris

“Shut. That fucking dog. Up.”

Kip’s command stood in the middle of the Cantina, resonating silently, an elephant in the room. The noise of the neighbor’s dog barking nonstop was, sadly, not intermittent. It howled. It whined.

“It’s fucking annoying.”

Nobody responded to him – the others were all too busy staring awkwardly at their shoes, except Virvel who was barefoot. Though on the outside they appeared motionless, the gears within sped at a rapid speed. There was no stopping the scheming.

The dog’s bark continued.

“What kind of dog is it?” someone asked.

“A fucking loud one.”

Silence – except for the barking.

“I have an idea,” whispered Data.

“About fucking time.”

Data scowled at Kip’s harsh language. He never cared for cursing, unless they were made up words that meant exactly the same thing. The world is a funny place – though I don’t think that funny is exactly the proper word.

More barking breached the delicate threads of the patience of the Cantinians.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Data blinked.

“What’s your fucking plan?”

More scowling. Zifnab cleared his throat loudly and massaged his poor ears while throwing hideous glances at the wall separating the dog and his murderous stabbing rage.

Virvel laid her hand over Kip’s, quieting him. “What he means is – what is your plan, Data?”

The schemers schemed to the midnight moonlight melting against the aged walls. The dog barked evermore.