Chase grabbed the puppy and gat brutally attacked for his efforts. He had had the puppy for close to a day now, and was thoroughly tired of it. He delicately pulled the little teeth out of his arm and dropped the puppy into an old playpen.
"Stay!" he commanded the puppy. He turned around to go answer the phone that had been ringing for a while now. "Ahem, hello?" The puppy, sensing Chase's attention elsewhere, gnawed a hole in the playpen's netting, and escaped it to scamper around the house and reek destruction to Chase's newly furnished bedroom. Chase hung up the telephone, jotted down an address, and turned to look at the puppy in the playpen. Chase yelled at the top of his lungs and leapt for his bedroom. He knew Puppy had his eye on those new bed sheets he had just gotten. Chase landed in his door way and stopped dead. The sheets lay on the floor in ruin, along with all his pillows, sofas, game-stations... Chase screamed bloody murder at Puppy, who went scrambling between Chase's legs out into the hallway. Chase slammed the door to his room shut, snatched up Puppy, and dropped it back into the playpen.
"Maybe chicken wire," Chase mused as Puppy began to slip out of the hole it had previously created. Chase grabbed Puppy, grabbed some old cookies and a plastic bowl from his kitchen, then proceeded to his bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Chase closed the door with his foot, then set about to making preparations for Puppy.
Half an hour later of setting up the bathtub for Puppy, repeatedly placing Puppy in the bathtub after its multiple escapes, and stitching up the playpen, Chase finally made his way to the hardware store to get some chicken wire. Upon arriving, he walked up to a clerk and said:
"I've got a new puppy and I need some chicken wire to keep it in its playpen. How many yards would I need?" The clerk's eyes grew large in horror.
"Surely, sir," she said, "You don't intend to IMPRISON the poor thing?!" Chase raised his eyebrows.
"Listen, lady," he said, "I spent over one hundred and fifty bucks buying those sheets. And pillows. And sofas. And game-stations. I think the little mutt can survive a few weeks in a playpen with food and daily walks. Just tell me how much freaking chicken wire I need."
"Keeping an animal caged up like that is animal abuse!" 'Obviously,' Chase thought, 'This woman is dead set on her views.'
"Later," he said as he walked away. He walked up to another clerk who was wandering the store. "I need some chicken wire to go around a playpen." The clerk looked at him funny, then hurried off.
After many clerks and threats later, Chase finally stepped inside his house to see...no Puppy. Hoping he was still where he left him, Chase opened the bathroom door to be greeted by an energetic Puppy.
"Good Puppy. Now, come. I'm going to fix your playpen." And so he set about to work.
Chase crept quietly away from the apartment. Soon his target's spouse would discover the target's motionless body. Thwack! Something small and warm smacked into Chase's chest. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Correction, four small warm things. Chase flicked on his flashlight and played it on to the ground. He saw four small, warm, cute little bats, all of which were looking right at him. 'Oh, dear,' he thought. He turned off his flashlight and ran for his car, fiddled with the keys, then climbed through the door and shut it quickly, but not fast enough. Four bright little eyes looked up at him. Four tiny little squeaks were sounded off. Four tiny pairs of teeth went for his finger.
"Aaaiiieee! No! Here! Wanna wanna month old cookie?!" The four little bats squeaked, then flew for the cookie proffered. "Right then. I'm going home. I guess you'll want to come, too?" he said vexely. Four tiny little squeaks agreed. "Crud." And Chase drove home.
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