Brandon Marshall: This ain’t something I would ask of just anyone. But we’ve been together a long time now. I feel like we’ve developed something of a close bond. Hell, you might be the only real friend I have in this world. Heh. “Might.” Listen to me. Can’t even be honest with myself. You are my only real friend. Probably the only one I’ll ever have. Of all the people who claim they know me, care for me, who else but you could I count on for anything like this? The other day I sat out back in the Olympic-sized hot tub and thought on it. Skipped practice. Ignored calls from my agent and my coach. Didn’t eat any meals. Stared at one tree. At the end of the day, I had a ton of bug bites and one conclusion: that you, yes you, are the only one who understands.
This is serious.
I’m wearing a suit.
Brandon Marshall: I know what you’re thinking: “I’m a dog. This is a lot of responsibility for me. I’m not sure I’m up to this.” Lemme tell you: you are up to this. No one’s ever been more up to anything the way you are up to this right now.
Let’s talk about the way you think about a bouncy ball. You fixate. You obsess. To you, the universe is contained within its shape. Everything outside of it is nothingness. It’s as though God put all creation inside this one object. For you to obtain it is to more or less obtain the world entire. Plus, it feels good to chew on.
The way you think about the ball is the way I think about beating up my wife. Ooohhh yeah. Felt my pupils dilate when I said that. Now, whereas you, a dog, want your fixation in any form its available, mine is not so easily satisfied. Man is a complex beast. I’m not sure why we’re burdened with this complexity. I wish we weren’t. Such is life.
In my mind, I see it. I hear it. In incredible detail. My fist making sodden thumps against her body. The screams. The rush of adrenaline. My wife, who I love and I love to strike. It’s almost real the way I picture it. But something’s missing. The difference between a base fantasy and a fantastic reality. She staggers into the kitchen dazed and pained, seeking relief. She spots a phone. At last, a means to escape. She starts to dial. She may not be free yet, but someone will soon be coming to her rescue. And then: the phone is ripped from the wall. Is it me? It could be, but that would be too easy. No, it’s the dog. Why the dog? BECAUSE THE BEATING IS MEANT TO BE AND IT’S PROVEN RIGHT THERE BECAUSE EVEN AN UNTHINKING ANIMAL ACTING ON INSTINCT IS BENT ON KEEPING THE BEATING GOING.
And that’s where you come in, Sadie. In one simple act, you can make the universe complete.
Brandon Marshall: All right, Sadie. Have it your way. It makes me sad that you see things that way.
Looks like I’ll have to save all these milkbones for my dog arms. Yes! Dog arms! For you see, before your very canine eyes, my arms transform into dogs. Slender attack dogs under my control. Dogs that carry out my every whim, no questions asked. When I ask them to rip phones from the wall, they do it. And they don’t get worms in their intestinal tract that cost me money to remove. They are the pets I should have always had. I have new friends now!
[Makes dog shadow puppets on the wall while barking]