Paul Bunion was bored. He'd been in the circus for about ten months, training promenading poodles, but it was getting boring. Besides, he'd started to get this weird feeling the people weren't coming to see the poodles. He didn't know why they kept coming. He just knew it wasn't because of Bat Segundo, the trapeze artist. And he was tired of the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, and the people who threw terrapins. Those shells really hurt.
He sighed. His head was all in a muddle, and he just didn't know what to do. "Hey, Bunion. Phone."
Bunion picked up. "Hello?"
"Bunion. Your mother wears Army boots, and I want it to stop." A mystery voice says.
After a few seconds, Bunion remembers that Army boots‚ is the newest cool phrase for being a stupidly stubborn disciplinarian. "Um, what?"
"Look, it's me. The galleycat. You know, the weird one your parents brought home last fall?"
Bunion blinked. Truth be told, he didn't remember that. But he had a kind heart, so he lied, "Yes."
"Great. Look, she's threatening to include me in the will of the Wisp family and have me entombed to keep their dead dog company. The only way out is if you head to library school and become an author."
Bunion wasn't really sure what happened next, but he ended up out of the circus and in library school in a week. All the literary agents were pacing in front of the large group of them, looking closely and separating out some people on occasion to head to a different group.
Finally, only ten of them were left in the last group. They were approached by one of the literary agents. Following closely behind her was a poodle in a pink tam.
"Okay. Every year I get stuck with the nitwits, and you just happen to be this years crop. The name's Snark. Miss Snark. And this," She said, pointing at the poodle, "Is Killer Yapp."
"Sup." The poodle said, bouncing forward. Then Killer Yapp, hereby known as K.Y., singled out Bunion. "I don't like your looks. Drop everything and give me ten ... books."
Miss Snark wasn't given that name for being a lily-growing granny. Every day she'd charge in howling at them. K.Y. helped. Unfortunately for Bunion, he was quickly labeled as the class Nitwit and was a strong contender for Nitwit of the year. Every day Miss. Snark came at him, determined to drill into him that an S.A.S.E. was a requirement of the course.
Finally, he had it with her. Using those skills picked up at the circus, he lured away K.Y. and trained him to promenade. He spent his entire winter break teaching K.Y. tricks with the pink tam and a whip.
Upon his return, Miss Snark was furious. He was almost kicked out of the school, but something more devious was decided. At graduation that year, poor Paul Bunion was fatally shot with the clue gun.
Oh KY loves this one the most so far!
Poodle rap! Two pack lives!
Score to come