It was Thursday and Columbo had a bangin’ headache. The night before he had been to Panache with his good friends Mike and Laura. Obviously he couldn’t go into the popular night venue, hes a dog, but he sat in the street tied to a railing and chatted with a lady tramp named Polly.
Polly had turned to prostitution at the age of 15 after her step-father forced her to leave home. Columbo thought this was quite unfair but then Polly explained that her father had caught her having sex with a pony in the kitchen. Columbo began to feel quite uncomfortable especially as Polly had a slight twitch in her left eye which gave way to a cheeky grin with each spasm of her eyelid.
Columbo made a polite excuse and began to walk away, forgetting his lead was tied to a post outside Bristol’s leading midweek alternative nightclub; propaganda, as I already explained. The lead went tort and Columbo fell to the floor.
“Aha!” Polly said with a further twitch of her eye. She untied Columbos lead and began dragging him towards a sheltered archway were Polly often took ‘Punters’
“Woof Woof NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” Columbo cried, but no one had heard him.
Some time later Mike and Laura returned to the post where Columbo had been tied to find no trace of their canine companion. Laura cried his name while Mike ordered a small margarita pizza to share.
After a few minutes of searching and a few bites of a frankly mediocre Italian late night snack, an observant community support officer strolled by. He helped Laura search for Columbo and head a faint barking in the distance.
It was columbo! Fucked on heroin that he had taken with Polly in an attempt to delay the impending serious sexual assault, he lay in the doorway next to a comatosed hooker-dog-fucker. An ambulance was called and a vet was soon on site to help Columbo.
Fortunately he was ok and only ended up with a bad headache as did Laura. Mike had gastro-enteritis from the pizza, but all things considered it could have been worse.
And they all lived happily ever after.