This is the dark mirror of the other thread - Post-Contact Hilarity - which I don’t particularly want to have, especially if it ends up turning into our local home for HFO content, but right now, I need to vent a little.
You see, I’m still unbelievably relieved that when the Feds decided it was time to smash up my house, terrorize my family, etc., etc., both our dog and our guest dog - despite this nation’s bloody addiction to puppycide (content warning: do not follow that link) - survived the experience in good health, although still damn twitchy around strangers, loud noises, and anyone at or close to the door, but also moderately terrified of what might happen.
And this is the moment at which some motherless son-of-a-bitch decides to post an autoplaying video of one of the latest shootings in this category, in which some particularly fuckheaded fascist decided that a happy, totally non-threatening golden retriever just had to die, and since there were still some rounds left in the magazine, firing wildly down the street in its direction while it was running away to find a place to bleed out was also entirely appropriate.
So I’m what you could fairly describe as not in my happy place right now.
But as a writer with writer-brain, I process these things through narrative, and in this case, I process these things through a certain filmstrip familiar to Bioshock: Infinite players as Duke & Dimwit, and its real-world counterpart Goofus & Gallant. So, without further ado, in the distinctly non-hilarious interactions with Earth’s law enforcement - and I think this works well if one assumes that both of these characters in this case are in that particular business, just from very different traditions and required to work together:
GOOFUS murders a friendly dog because he’s a sadistic, cowardly psychopath.
GALLANT pulverizes Goofus’s brain with a single well-aimed headshot and summons immediate emergency medical attention for his victim.
[Gallant shows correct behavior.]