What did he do to deserve this? Evil was on his tail, and there was no shaking it. If he could only get to a safe place and be afforded enough time to think, he could get himself out of this jam.
But alas, life was never this easy for the Pug.
However he hadn't a clue as to what brought this on. Sure the Pug had found that satchel full of cash in the desert, along with abandoned pickups, corpses and dying Mexicans. But that was a routine occurrence here in the great southwest, and a source of income for many of the locals.
His pursuer was relentless, and not in the flattering, amorous way that he'd come to expect from his bloggers. The females in particular. Not only that, there were those odd quirks. What was the deal with that metal tank the man carried by his side? Why the bad hair, which was laughable even by Canadian and mall salon standards?
It was obvious to the Pug that he had to flee. And quickly. Sparing no time, he hastily packed his belongings and departed the trailer that he'd one day hoped to fix up and share with his beloved Lamby. Now the prospect of hearing her little hooves scrape across the linoleum every morning as she served him breakfast seemed more than ever out of reach.
Little did he know, that a hidden transponder would be tracking his every move from here on out.
Meanwhile, his pursuer continued to be one step behind. A cruel man, he would cooly respond too those who dared to poke fun at his haircut; offering them life or death, depending on the flip of a penny (what was the significance of using a penny?). Those fortunate enough to make the correct call were still provided with a bowl for use as a template as they were forced to cut their hair to match the pursuer's. Neil Young and Liza Minelli were just two of many who were subjected to this humiliation.
The metal tank was soon revealed to contain helium, which the pursuer would use in a particularly sardonic manner. For those who were slated to be killed, the pursuer would calmly and repeatedly insist on knowing the victim's favorite zoo animal. He would use the helium tank to fashion the animal out of balloons. Then he would pop the creation and shoot the victim. It was pointless, really. Much like this post.
The Pug zigzagged throughout the great southwest, hoping to throw the pursuer off of his trail long enough to make it to Leelee's shop, where he - like many others - could launder the money, and disappear into the Bermuda Triangle.
But the pursuer was relentless, chasing the Pug to the Mexican border, which was surprisingly easy to cross. Soon the fear of the pursuer temporarily gave way to the lure of Tijuana. The Pug was a huge fan of Herb Alpert and his horny sound, and hoped to encounter the legend in one of the town's few brothels, where Herb was known to give the girls trumpet lessons.
Unfortunately this did not come to pass, as our intrepid canine was immediately contacted upon checking into his hotel. The pursuer had a proposition: if the Pug gave himself up, the pursuer wouldn't harm any of his fellow bloggers. Not even the ones deemed expendable.
The Pug refused.
Sneaking back across the border into the U.S., which was surprisingly easy to do, the Pug made his way to El Paso, which was a pleasant 1-degree cooler. He checked himself into a cheap motel where he was flirted with by a sultry Jmeped, who was lounging by the pool in a topless bikini.
Distracted by the blonde vixen, the Pug's guard (but not his gourd) was down as he entered his room, and he failed to notice his pursuer sitting on the bed. The Pug knew the chase was at an end. Sitting down and resigning himself to his fate, the Pug asked the pursuer why he went to so much trouble over a trivial satchel of cash.
The pursuer explained how this was never about the cash. He hadn't been aware of it in the first place.
He then went on to explain how he had been in a long line at the gas station one rush hour morning, while the Pug was at the front, attempting to pay for his fill-up from a huge jar of pennies. Thirty minutes later, after the Pug had finally departed, everyone in that line - including a County Sheriff - chipped in for the pursuer to track down the Pug and exact justice in the form of a penny-laden enema.
The Pug knew that the region had always been violent. Perhaps he was vain in thinking that his impish personality could somehow make a difference. He now feared for his fellow bloggers, who could easily be tracked down via the Pug's sidebar and eliminated one by one.
By Your Side...
17 hours ago