rocket in my pocket

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"What the hell has that dog got ahold of now?" I looked up from the keyboard (I don't touch type) and down at the rug at my feet, the rug that has become Moxie's preferred spot in the apartment to carry his snacks and secret scores to nibble on. I try to monitor this behavior, and so I looked down to find that this time it was—a sex toy ohmigod!
It was a pocket rocket vibrator with a rubber hat with dinglies on it and not mine. Nice toy for a toy.
I called my roommate Antonia to report.
"Was it on?" she asked.
"No," I said."I should have documented the moment, but I was more concerned with getting it away from him."
"The people at the studio are laughing their asses off," she said. "My life has become a sit com."
Why I can't stop smoking: Pet of the Month