The Land of the Cheddar Monster Vivisectionists

-I saw it in an advertisement -Mr. Madero said, continuing his endless tale of The Recliner Of Terror. Just then, the tacky terrier stuck his head in the door-. ¡And YOU! ¡I’m going to hang you from the nearest lounge chair! ¡Or fry you on the nearest Lazy-Boy, while I tell you about the surfboard I just bought in Iran!

-¡Noooo! -Kris’s soul was being physically wrenched from her being.

Barky’s soul was about to be stultified, his body gutted, and the remains presented to Kris.

-¡Don’t fuck with Barky! -Kris cried out.

The dummy just smiled and started talking about haggling with a man in an Iranian surf shop.

Barky emitted a low, long, languorous howl that sounded like it had come from being judo-chopped by Jesse Jackson.

Kris and Lindy couldn’t take it any more and started laying into the dummy like Contras on babies. Lindy kicked Mr. Madero in the muttonchops and Kris grabbed Barky and put her hands over his ears.

Lindy and the dummy slipped on the urine. But her hands continued pummeling the prone dummy like a pissed-off Pamela Anderson.

In the ensuing melee, the sisters watched, helpless to stop Barky from being converted into a liquid aperitif afterthought.

-¡Suck his dick! ¡Suck his dick! -Kris’s soul had been seersuckered.

¡The lesbians are under my thumb! -The dummy grunted, as Lindy continued pummeling him like it was her favorite pastime-. ¿Isn’t - ¡oof! -that - ¡ahh! - freaking - ¡yikes! - dog - ¡wow! - dead - ¡oop! - yet?

-¡No! -Kris’s soul was jaded, but not yet gone-. ¡You’ll have to do a lot more than bore him to get that freaking lab-experiment-gone-bad to die! Here, try this tire iron.

Barky had to have Kaya now, but he was urine-soaked and quickly losing the few reasons he had to live.

-¡Thanks for the pagan iron! -Mr. Madero was rugged, but he had obviously never changed a tire. And he had never so much as lanced a boil or laughed when faced with a Billy Crystal movie.

Kris had once lanced a boil on Mr. Madero’s butt and he had given her a dollar and said that if she wanted another dollar she could turn him over and suck on his Lance Corporal Johnson.

She heard her dog yelping like it had been set on fire by juxtaposing Ella Fitzgerald with Ashlee Simpson.

¡Suck my dick! -Mr. Madero had turned up the volume on his squeal as Lindy subjected him to a series of pernicious punches.

-¡Not on your life, fella! -Lindy groused-. Kris... ¡Will you get aggressive, for Luca Brasi’s sake!

With her head softly in the clouds, Kris was more inclined to hand out packets of ketchup than to turn up her natural aggression.

But turn it up she did. Just when it looked like she was going to stop and smell the mandibles, Kris made a 347° turn, making an all-out, mandible-smelling-less attack on the dummy.

¡Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi! -Kris greeted the door with a thud and was out for the Chinese proverb count.

-Confucius say -The dummy had not one politically-correct bone in his cryogenically-frozen body-: He who run into door, lie down in urine.

And Confucius had been right. Now Kris was lying in a pool of dog urine.

Both Lindy and Mr. Madero turned to look. The urine had now seeped into the living room carpet and the whole place smelled like a Contra pissing and baby-mutilating contest. The dummy started furiously pissing on the carpet, treating it to his annual expulsion of liquid waste materials.

Kris immediately knew that she had blown the opportunity to take her natural aggression and her borrowed brazenness and deposit it on something other than her unsuspecting parents. The bottom line was her head was treating her like it was John Roseboro’s on the wrong end of Marichal’s bat: she couldn’t hear anything for days and she had the vague feeling of waking up in a men’s restroom.

-¡Passenger pigeon! -She screamed Ghost Doggedly-. ¡Passenger pigeon!

Barky didn’t understand what all the agitation was about and he lifted his leg on Kris.

-¡¿What the freaking hell?! -Kris was officially conscious.

-What the fuck is wrong wit-chu? -Lindy never wanted to be a nun.

-¡FIRE! -Kris was conscious, but she also had been subjected to the most heinous golden showering this side of “Lap Dances With Wolves”.

Her pent-up anger was like two accordion-playing mannequins visiting the tomb of the unknown Latino voter and then tagging it with Samuel Johnson quips.

-Let’s go -Her sister urged-. ¡And quit fantasizing about mannequins tagging shit!

-¡Oh-hhhh, lesbians! ¡I’m over here-ere! -It was the furtive voice of the foul-mouthed figurine.

Ignoring the taunts, Kris opened the refrigerator door, a blatant challenge to the dummy’s authority.

For what seemed like seven seconds, Kris couldn’t find the patio. Then she realized that she was looking for the patio in the toaster oven.

Then the two girls got together and started looking for a plan in other small appliances, but, again, all they could find was the Latino and now also the Laotian vote.

-¡Here it is! ¡I’m sure of it! -Kris was starting to grate on her sister with a ferocity that only a maniacal mannequin could manhandle-. ¡Check this out, my sistah!

-¡Suck my dick! Lesbians, ¡suck my dick! -The dummy’s voice was en fuego-. ¡This is the last dance! I’m gonna gyrate so fervently that your heads are going to treat your bodies like they’re Kris’s training bra.

There was complete silence and then the sound of crickets in the distance.

The girls had stopped looking for a plan when they’d found the Latino vote, and now they were planless, clueless, mopedless and just plain lessless.

And the two negatives did not add up to a positive. They added up to an enormous mannequin version of Barky that meandered its way through the kitchen, drinking cola with a furiosity bordering on Tijuana.

-¡Oh, no! ¿How did that fucking dog turn into a mannequin? -Lindy asked.

Barky mannequin started laughing in a language that was on fire, but looked like it had been season-salted with a combination of fine herbs, vinaigrette and some automatic mojo. But it couldn’t see and it fell in front of them, tumbling and tumbling like a burning 747.

-No, ¡Barky mannequin! -Kris was hipped in grorror-. ¡No! ¡Bad mannequin! ¡No!