Pauline The Pooch Meets The Bart Train Zodiac Killer

Pauline the Pooch, the famed “imperiled” cartoon star from the Sixties, once found herself, recently, “stuck for transit fare,” and looking for some way to pay her way to SF, without having to go through a whole lot of trouble.

So she pulled her familiar famous cartoon stunt, as her laptop rested benignly, open, in her lap.

“YELP!” she shrieked. “YELP! YELP!”

Ace Ventura, the great hound dog detective, overheard her cries for help, and rushed to assist her.

“Ma’am,” he said with his paw extended, “Are you quite alright? Were you calling for help?”

Pauline the Imperiled looked up, her previously “panic-stricken eyes” shifting into high gear with a pissed-off glare, to get her “Bart Train Game” going.

NO! NO!” she barked, angrily, “I said ‘YELP!’ I only needed a “Keyword-formatted” excuse so I could have a reason go to their web site and complain about someone. Now, that you’re “talking to me,” without my consensual agreement, that could be a sexually illegal issue of contengtion if I “phrase it that way” on their web site. Plus, I feel like a “Lady Luck” Leagle Beagle, and I could make some intense “dinero” for reporting your “Poodle-loo Caper” out here. You know that?”

“You cavorting, cartoon-capered Bitch,” Ace Ventura returned with a growl, “Someday, I’m going to send Batman and Robin out here to “Bask your Robbins” in a vat before you even try “Konning the Tiki” out of the “Magic Kingdom” for another double scoop ice cream cone out there, again!”

“Hey, you leave my Sixties alone,” she shot back.

“Honey,” Ace Ventura added, “Just don’t try this in The Haight without telling someone why you “Haight-Ashbury” so much, that you can’t “like him on Facebook, first,” before “slamming his shit on YELP for a fast buck.”

“I’ll think about if “he’s” aware that “I’m” even out there to begin with. After all, he’s only a Sixties archetype.”

“And so what if “HE” is! You wouldn’t dare try hitting “Ashbury’s Wi Fi” on your cell phone, out there, would you, dear?”

“Only if “HE” hasn’t heard me cry “YELP” out there, yet, with that handy little sucker I take out there with me, all the time.”

Ace Ventura turned away, disgusted.

“Be sure you do that before you hear ‘Scooby-Doo, where are you!’ from the background chatter.”

“Why’s that?” Pauline asked with a tad of paranoia.

Ace Ventura leered back at her knowingly, before departing, “It might not, necessarily, be who you think it is if you pull that “YELP” bullshit, again. It could be the Godamned Zodiac Killer, you know?”

“I don’t care if He’s Superman Zodiac, over there,” Pauline answered, confidently, “He ain’t getting my money.”

Ace Ventura, convinced he’d said something right, at last, then, walked away, a confident, snarling leer upon his jowls.

Pauline, smirking at her brief victory, (at least, it was to her) commenced, once again, with her typing, completely unfazed by the Zodiac warning she suddenly got from across the Parking Lot.

“This is the Bart Train Zodiac Ventriloquist speaking, over here, Miss. This could be my final warning. Please walk over here and surrender all your money to me, immediately, or something may happen.”

Pauline looked in back of her, briefly, in the direction of the Bart Platform, Crowd Chatter-imbedded Zodiac Warning, tossed a Scooby Snack to the ground for the closest ventriloquist available and continued typing away, as if nothing, out of the ordinary, had taken place, at all.

Because, had it?????