My time as an undercover nerd is over. I've been forced to "come out of the turbo lift" as it were.
Two years ago I bought a Siberian Husky and grappled for a name for him. A week or so before I got him, I tossed a few around, but knew the one I really wanted.
I considered Luigi (no Mario reference, I just liked it.)
The standards came to mind; Zeus, Apollo, Duke, etc, and all the while one name kept pushing it's way to the top of my mental list.
Tiberius.
It's a noble sounding name for a beautiful, majestic, noble ,blue eyed canine.
And hell, who am I kidding? We all know it's true connotation for us.
So, Tiberius it was.
Perfect I though. Those "in the know" would smile and nod their head when they asked his name, and those who questioned such an odd name would be informed with "Well, Tiberius was the second emperor of Rome."
Two years passed smoothly (minus the crapping on the carpet and the chewing my pinky ring into a block of silver.)
I'd walk him and and wherever we went it was the standard:
Them- "What a beautiful dog! What's his name?
Me- "Tiberius"
Them- "Tiberius?
Me- "He was the second Emperor of Rome." (I should note that I'm one of those Italian guys who is asked constantly if I'm in the mafia by people who watch too many mobster movies, so the the whole tie back to Italy was perfect.)
A nod, a smile, and a piss on a hedge and away we went on our walk.
All was well...until the commercial.
That GODDAMN Burger King Commercial!!!
The first day it aired there were seven messages on my answering machine to the affect of " Do you know there's a BK commercial with a dog named Tiberius in it?"
They hadn't made the connection yet, but they would.
I closed the curtains locked the doors, hid in the closet and cried.
"They all find out!! I'll be destroyed!!" I wept.
Tiberius however is unconcerned with his new found celebrity and continues his routine of crapping on the carpet and resting his head in my girlfriend's cleavage. (Lucky little bastard! she doesn't even let me do that! Then again maybe if my eyes were blue, but I digress...)
Now when asked his name I'm forced to hear "like the dog in the commercial!" or "The Star Trek Dog!" or even worse. "The BURGER KING Dog!!"
GODDAMN KINGON BASTARDS!!!
I can't live like this. I'm afraid I'll be forced to change his name...
To Chewbacca.
Two years ago I bought a Siberian Husky and grappled for a name for him. A week or so before I got him, I tossed a few around, but knew the one I really wanted.
I considered Luigi (no Mario reference, I just liked it.)
The standards came to mind; Zeus, Apollo, Duke, etc, and all the while one name kept pushing it's way to the top of my mental list.
Tiberius.
It's a noble sounding name for a beautiful, majestic, noble ,blue eyed canine.
And hell, who am I kidding? We all know it's true connotation for us.
So, Tiberius it was.
Perfect I though. Those "in the know" would smile and nod their head when they asked his name, and those who questioned such an odd name would be informed with "Well, Tiberius was the second emperor of Rome."
Two years passed smoothly (minus the crapping on the carpet and the chewing my pinky ring into a block of silver.)
I'd walk him and and wherever we went it was the standard:
Them- "What a beautiful dog! What's his name?
Me- "Tiberius"
Them- "Tiberius?
Me- "He was the second Emperor of Rome." (I should note that I'm one of those Italian guys who is asked constantly if I'm in the mafia by people who watch too many mobster movies, so the the whole tie back to Italy was perfect.)
A nod, a smile, and a piss on a hedge and away we went on our walk.
All was well...until the commercial.
That GODDAMN Burger King Commercial!!!
The first day it aired there were seven messages on my answering machine to the affect of " Do you know there's a BK commercial with a dog named Tiberius in it?"
They hadn't made the connection yet, but they would.
I closed the curtains locked the doors, hid in the closet and cried.
"They all find out!! I'll be destroyed!!" I wept.
Tiberius however is unconcerned with his new found celebrity and continues his routine of crapping on the carpet and resting his head in my girlfriend's cleavage. (Lucky little bastard! she doesn't even let me do that! Then again maybe if my eyes were blue, but I digress...)
Now when asked his name I'm forced to hear "like the dog in the commercial!" or "The Star Trek Dog!" or even worse. "The BURGER KING Dog!!"
GODDAMN KINGON BASTARDS!!!
I can't live like this. I'm afraid I'll be forced to change his name...
To Chewbacca.
good story.
