Iggy, arch criminal.

“Hey Karen! Hey Karen! Hey Karen! Hey Karen! Hey–”

Iggy, I’m standing right here.

“Oh.  Yeah.  Hi.”


“I was watching a thing on the news before about prisoners working with dogs.”

So that’s why you were barking. Those dogs on TV aren’t actually here, you know.

“What? Um… yeah! I know that! I was just… practicing. For when I really meet real dogs. That are really here. Not like the ones on TV. ‘Cause those aren’t really here. I know that!”


“Anyway, I was watching it, and it seems like a nice idea.”

It is.  It’s supposed to help the prisoners with rehabilitation, along with helping the dogs.  A very good idea.

“Yeah.  Anyway, since I’m a prisoner, I want a dog.”

You’re not a prisoner, you’re a patient.

“I’m behind bars. I’m a prisoner.”

Whatever you say, Iggy.

“I want a dog to work with.”

You’re a handful on your own. I don’t think another–

“A mini poodle.”


“Between one and two years old.”

You’re not getting a–

“About 15 pounds.”

I just said–

“Female, of course.”

You are not–



“–pretty ribbons in her fur–”


“–a poofy little butt–”


“–and all these shaved bits–”

Stop or no more painkillers.

“Great.  Now I have no future.  When I get out of here and knock over a liquor store and end up right back inside, it’s your fault.”