"Fine, Duane," I sighed. "If I agree to do the special, will you stop harassing me?"
It had endured pleading phone calls from Dog, The Bounty Hunter, for months. I knew I was sick of them; he had to be growing tired, too.
"You'll do it, brah?" he shouted. "She'll do it!" There was an explosion of excited screams from his family and friends who, apparently, were standing around waiting for my response.
"Hold it, Dog," I hissed. "If you insist upon calling me 'brah,' the deal is off. I'm nobody's brah."
"No problem, br...Kukka."
"Give me the phone, brah," barked Beth, his big-boobed bride. "Kukka! You're coming to Hawaii to film the special? I can't wait! You can ride with me in my SUV. We'll give you your own can of pepper spray and a pair of handcuffs."
"Silly Beth..." I smiled. "I'll bring my own pink, fur-lined cuffs."
"Oh. I guess that's fine, you kinky, little brah," she purred. "You bring 'em, but know that I still have bigger muffins than you!"
"Yours may be bigger, but I have more of them!"
I flew to Hawaii, first class, compliments of A&E Television. As I pressed the hot towel against my face and took a sip of my champagne, I wondered if the addicts from Intervention are treated this well as they flew to their inpatient treatment facilities.
"They probably don't get the champagne," I muttered to myself as I strained to look out the window.
Dog met me at the airport. Before I knew it, he placed a badge around my neck, whipped a leather vest on my torso, slapped a blonde mullet on my head and pinned a feathered roach clip to my temple. "If you're going to work with me, brah, you'll need to look like me."
"I don't think..."
"Read your contract, brah. You are contractually obligated to be mulleted."
We drove directly to his office and began to hunt bad guys. Standing at his dry-erase board, the debrief began.
"Who do we have, Leland?"
"We have a black, male," responded Leland, studying his laptop screen.
"WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE BLACK, YOU RACIST BASTARDS!?" I shouted in the most frightening version of my voice.
"CUT!" yelled Dog to the cameras. "Kukka, calm down. We didn't make him black. The dear Lord Jesus in the infinite heaven did. Now, if you're going to have these types of outbursts, we're going to have to ask you to be silent throughout the rest of the show."
"Sorry," I said. "I am just used to dealing with harsh specism that I didn't think it through."
Dog slowly turned toward Leland. "Go on, brah."
"Black male. Name: Cordozar Calvin Broadus. He was on vacation on the island and was popped for weed, brah. We posted bond and he has failed to appear in court. I contacted his business manager, Andre Young, but haven't had much cooperation."
"Word on the street is that he fled to L.A.," interjected Tim, "but now he's back to enjoy the surf, brah."
"Do you have a photo, brah?" inquired Dog.
"HOLY SHIT!" I exclaimed. "That's Snoop Dogg!"
"What the...who the..." stammered Dog. "There is room for only one dog on the island. Come on, brahs! We have vicious dog to catch!"
Speeding along the highway, Beth wouldn't stop talking. "Kukka...who does your hair? I mean, don't you think it would look much better if it were higher and blonder?"
"And who does your nails, brah? If I had four hands worth of claws, I'd be sporting some fierce, acrylic, dragon-lady nails!"
"You already sport dragon-lady nails," I mumbled under my breath.
We arrived at Snoop's hotel and rushed up the stairs. It could have been because I'm [choke] out of shape, or because my legs were much shorter than the rest of the crew, but I had a difficult time keeping up. Hearing my huffing and puffing, Dog reached down and swooped me up in one brisk motion. Despite the fact it was a bit embarrassing to be carried on television when I was trying to appear as a bad-ass bounty hunter, my stems were relieved to catch a break.
My running issue was not nearly as bad as Beth's, though. I can see now why she wears the sunglasses. She needs to protect her eyes from her bouncing...um...assets. I'd take numerous nips over ginormous nips any day! That poor woman is physically stronger than any man I know! I'd like to see a man hoist and carry those puppies around each and every day--without bitching and moaning.
"Can I knock?" I whispered, as we stood outside the hotel room door. "I mean, I'm a huge fan."
"Thank you, brah!" blushed Dog.
"No...a fan of Snoop Dogg."
"Fine. I guess you can knock, braaaaaaaah," muttered Dog, hanging his head and fidgeting with the badge around his neck.
I quickly flopped down on the floor and banged on the door with all four paws. "OPEN THE DOOR, MOTHER-FUCKER! IT'S KUKKA-MARIA...THE BAD-ASS, WICKED-AWESOME, IN-YOUR-FACE, MAKE-YOU-CRY, DRAG-YOUR-MOTHER-HUMPING-ASS-BACK-TO-JAIL, DID I MENTION KICK-ASS? NO? THEN KICK-ASS BOUNTY HUNTER!"
Poised with pepper spray in paw, I could hear shuffling and banging behind the door.
In a very familiar, low and super-sexy voice, I heard, "Uno momento, por favor...I no speak-a de ingles."
"Snoop! Quit effing around," I threatened. "You know, as well as I, that I'm a stubborn bitch. I was like this when we dated; I haven't changed a bit. You know I'll camp outside this door as long as it takes. I have a packet of pretzels from the plane and I'm not above pissing on the floor, if I have to. I have my claws sharpened and I haven't had a treat in over 6 hours, so I'm feeling a little cranky."
"Kukka? It's really you?"
"Dogg..." I purred.
"Yeah, brah?" cooed Dog.
"No, Dog. I said DogG!"
"What?" asked Dogg.
"Cheese and rice! Get your ass out here, Snoop!" I commanded, with extreme frustration. "If you cooperate, I might be able to convince the judge to let you return to Michigan with me. You can stay at my house until your trial and we can fire up some Jamaican Black to relax."
"CUT!" Dog shouted to the cameras. "Brah, for crying out loud! You can't talk about smoking pot on television! You are supposed to be fighting crime, not committing crime!"
Suddenly, Snoop emerged from his hotel room. A hot-headed Leland unleashed his pepper spray, but thankfully, missed. As Dog prepared to place Dogg in handcuffs, I shouted "WAIT!"
Handing him my fur-lined cuffs, I smiled and winked at Snoop. "My pimp-daddy deserves to be pampered...even as he is being arrested."
"You're my bitch, Kukka," sighed Snoop. "You will always be my bitch."
Suddenly, Beth dragged him to the SUV. "Has anyone ever talked about turning your life around? This is your second chance," she expressed. I knew, based on the imminent pep-talk, that it was time to make my exit.
"Dogg, Dog and gang..." I whispered, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye. "It's been fun, but it hasn't been really fun. I'm outta here!"
"Come back any time, brah. We've had fun with you, brah, and would love to see you again, brah."
"ENOUGH WITH THE BRAHS!" I shouted, pressing my paws to my ears.
Apparently A&E wasn't too impressed with my appearance on the show, as I ended up flying home, in a crate, in cargo. I think it's because they are speciests! They love Dogs, but hate cats.