Dennis’s Run

Having escaped from the Planet of the Stuffies using quick wit and sneakiness, I have set the Doghouse of Justice on a course for earth.  I am looking forward to returning to my office in the archeology department at the university, where the only stuffies I need to concern myself with are the ones that graduate students bring me as presents.  Too late, though, I realize that I have accidentally set the Doghouse of Justice to arrive in the 23rd century.  Perhaps I will do a bit of sightseeing of the technological marvels that no doubt await, before returning to my proper time.  After all, in two hundred years, society will, no doubt, be perfect.


Watching through the Doghouse of Justice’s viewports, I can see the amazing architecture of this brave new world of the 23rd century. Or possibly I have simply materialized in modern-day Las Vegas, and the Doghouse of Justice’s instrumentation is incorrect.


Emerging from the Doghouse of Justice, I find my way into a nearby structure, where I quickly make friends with some of the locals. Unlike George from the Planet of the Stuffies, these appear to be normal, if oddly-dressed, humans.


My new friends offer to show me around their utopian paradise, and also promise to outfit me with a name tag. Evidently name tags are very important in their society. As an archeologist and anthropologist, I find this fascinating. This culture will make for an interesting paper once I am back in the present.


Balancing the risk of “going native” against the knowledge I can gain by participating in this strange name tag ritual, I decide to go along with it.


As I am escorted into the name tag chamber and inducted into their society, I begin to fear that I have made a serious mistake.


Evidently this is one of those cultures that will take one in, but not let one go.  I will play the part of a good citizen for now, but I cannot stay here, despite the evident peace and bounty (not to mention shininess) that surrounds me.  My place is at the university, and I will return there; because I am Dennis the Vizsla, and I never give up.

21 thoughts on “Dennis’s Run

  1. Like any good archeologist, are you looking for any bones to dig up? Ever hear of the Calusa? There’s a bunch of old indian mounds down the street where they lived a thousand years ago. Should be plenty of bones, but not much meat left on ‘um.


  2. Dennis! Please! Momma is already scared of Wal-Mart and then you showed her that photo. I tried to explain to her that she won’t be around then, but she insisted that it has already started! The big box stores are taking over!



  3. Dennis–don’t catch that Wally World virus! EEgads nothing will eat you alive faster than a starving Wal Mart door greeter. Those folks work for the wages of expired ten day old bread and rotting fruit from the produce department. Beware of the eternal spin image, Dennis—it’s deceptive but proven effective on millions world wide trying to pinch half pennies out of the Wally World Employee survelliance teams lurking in those bland looking white vans in the parking lots.


  4. Oooh Nooo!!! Dennis. I fear that those name tags may be Bad News. Good thing that you are a youngster, and your Lastday is a long while off. But I would dash away. And quickly. Because even if your name tag doesn’t turn black, it will still brand you as a Wally World-ite.

    (And I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who comes from a family of NERDS! Heh. Fresno. Heheh.)

    *kissey face*


  5. My word Dennis it does look like such a Utopian Paradise. I’m guessing you’re onto a good thing here. Just don’t get old or….
    All I can say is it’s a good thing Tucker isn’t with you


  6. Oh Dennis! What an exciting adventure – I can’t wait to find out what happens next!
    (By the way, I was not sure what WalMart is as we don’t have them here in NZ but Hsin-Yi explained to me that it is a breed of big shop with lots of cheap things inside?)

    Honey the Great Dane


  7. Oh no… not a wally world utopian takeover! Dennis, bite the little ladies in their bottom and maybe they’ll let you go! (well… at least they’ll stop calling you ‘little fellow’…!)


  8. I keep hearing chuckles from my living room, where Almostgotit’s Daughter is reading Dennis’ blog. “LEAVE A COMMENT!” I always tell her. But she doesn’t. But she’s 13 now, you know.


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