I don’t mean to complain, but one mistake around here gets you labeled for life.
Tommy’s nickname whenever he was on the poop list was “Sh*t Stain.” Micky is sometimes called “Piss Pot.” (I’m not sure I want to know why Tommy was called “Sh*t Stain.”) It’s only a matter of time before I’m branded. I have a bunch of nicknames and most of em are okay, but I’m scared of what I might do to incur their wrath and earn a lifelong nickname they’ll embarrass me with in front of my friends. (Imagine the photos your mother used to show your friends… Yeah, that bad!)
Tonight I made another new friend. His name is Pepe and he’s French. Well, he’s a regular dog, but he just moved here from France. He looked like me, but he needed a haircut. (You know how those French guys are.) He was also a little taller, but that’s okay. All that mattered to me was that he wanted to play. Dad was probably freezing, but so what? You only live once!
As it turns out, Pepe’s Dad is also a Marine. Once this was discovered, nobody wanted to go back inside. I don’t know what it is about the guys in Dad’s club, but they’re all pretty fun and they love to tell stories. Doesn’t bother me. As long as they chuck my ball, yap all you want!