Miami Vice Part 4: Hawt Showdawg

(Westminster Dog Show award-winning Vivi, reportedly worth between $20,000 and $35,000 bust loose from her cage at JFK airport and disappeared last February. A year later she’s still on the lam. To this day her royal hawt dawginess is still making the news and there are still search teams and prayer vigils dedicated to her safe return. This should be proof to all, just in case there were any question, that whether human or canine so long as you are hawt you matter! If you disappear, you will make the news! You are high-value because you are hawt! So unless you’re very rich, or a very white woman, the rest of y’all are screwed should YOU disappear, cause you’re not hawt. No 24-7 news coverage for y’all cause you’re all just folks. Just sayin.’)

All flights to Florida may be termed the Romper Room Flight, because the hulls are always teeming with screaming children. One of them kicked the back of my seat the whole way to West Palm Beach! I flipped through my issuse of the Economist, figuring all was just par for the course. It was a bumpy flight, also par for the course.

Doc Johnson was waiting for me in the same place he did before. “Look at you!” he exclaimed, as we embraced each other excitedly.

“No, look at you!” I countered. He was a little bit older and heavier, but then again so was I so no matter. He looked well. “You look good!”

“You look great! Look at you!!! Miss D.A.R.!!!!!”

Some little spring went boi-oi-oing in my head. DAR????? Daughters of the American Revolution? “I can’t believe that of all the things about me THAT’s the thing you remember.”

“Are you kidding?” That’s the FIRST thing I remember about you! Miss little ladylike DAR! You’re half southern! I love that about you! Your mother’s side, right? Descended from French royalty and George Washington’s family! So girly and feminine, yes suh, no suh, ooooh sexy!” He started to pinch my fleshy bits. “Look at you!”

I cringed from his tickles. “So what you’re saying is that what you like most about me is that I’m pedigreed, like a dog.”

“Definitely. That and you’re very feminine. I love it. Love it!”

This would probably have been the right time for me to make him carry my fancy Louis Vuitton suitcase, since I was such a Southern Layday. But they gave these things wheels for a reason, non? So I kept walking, wheeling my bag behind me. I let him load it into the Jag. I was hungry.

“Let me take you to Luigi’s to meet my attorney,” he said. “You like the food at Luigi’s right? He’s waiting for us. He’s gonna love you. Look at you!”