Mr. Pug & Mr. Other Pug

“This is really, really frustrating,” moaned Mr. Pug.

“What’s the issue now?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“I forgot my password to my Yelp account,” Mr. Pug replied, staring at his computer screen and tapping keys on the keyboard with abandon.

“What’s a Yelp?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“It’s a website where you can rate and review stuff like the dumpsters behind all of our favorite restaurants, or our favorite pee spots or the worst dog parks. Stuff like that,” sighed Mr. Pug. ”But I can’t get into it anymore.”

“Cause you forgot your password,” said Mr. Other Pug finishing Mr. Pug’s thought.

“Yes,” cringed Mr. Pug. “And I can’t remember it, either.”

“Well let me help you,” pleaded Mr. Other Pug. “Usually a password is something simple. Simple and familiar.”

Mr. Pug nodded.

“So what do you think it is?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“I don’t know!” said Mr. Pug. “That’s why I’m stuck.”

“Ok. Let me throw some ideas out,” said Mr. Other Pug. “We’ll see if anything rings a bell.”

“Go,” said Mr. Pug, semi-excitedly.

“Where were you born?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“At a puppy mill. Not a good memory,” said Mr. Pug.

“Me, too,” said Mr. Other Pug. “What’s your mother’s maiden name?”

“Bitch #43, but I never really knew her. I was taken from her almost right after birth and put into a pet store,” admitted Mr. Pug.

“Me, too,” said Mr. Other Pug. “How about your favorite car?”

“I like the MINI,” responded Mr. Pug.

“Me, too,” said Mr. Other Pug. “Is ‘MINI’ your password?”

“No,” said Mr. Pug.

“Nooooo,” mused Mr. Other Pug. “Favorite food?”

“Chicken,” said Mr. Pug, salivating at the very thought of his personal obsession.

“Me, too. Favorite drink?” continued Mr. Other Pug as if he had a mental laundry list he was running through.

“Water. Or Beer. Beer and water,” said Mr. Pug.

“Me, too,” said Mr. Other Pug.

“This is ridiculous,” said Mr. Pug.

“I’m just trying to help,” said Mr. Other Pug.

“Well, you’re not helping,” said Mr. Pug.

“Hmmm,” hmmm’d Mr. Other Pug. “Favorite toy?”

“Tennis ball,” said Mr. Other Pug.  “No!  A Frisbee. Or a chewy rope. Or a rubber tire, or a crunchy, plastic bottle.”

Mr. Other Pug nodded excitedly at each option. “Me, too,” he said repeatedly.

“Seriously,” said Mr. Other Pug, putting his foot down.  “This is going nowhere.”

“What’s your favorite pet?” asked Mr. Other Pug, ignoring Mr. Pug’s frustration.

Mr. Pug looked at Mr. Other Pug with eyes askew. “Really?” he asked.

“Ok, ok. Who’s your best friend?” asked Mr. Other Pug, smiling from ear to ear.

Mr. Other Pug refused to answer and just stared at his computer screen, crest-fallen.

“You know what?” poised Mr. Other Pug. “Maybe you don’t need to go on Yelp anymore, anyway. Why be influenced other people’s opinions? If you like something, you like it. It doesn’t matter if anyone else likes it. You’re an individual. What matters is what makes you happy,”

“Opinions are like pug butts,” said Mr. Pug. “Everyone has one.”

“You sound just like Mavis,” said Mr. Other Pug.

“Mavis? MAVIS!” shrieked Mr. Pug. “That’s it! That’s my password!”

Mr. Pug jumped up on the computer desk and punched the keyboard with quick precision: ‘M—A—V—I—S.”

‘There I’m in!” said Mr. Pug. “Now I’m gonna rip apart that new Dunkin Donuts on the corner for never having chicken-flavored Munchkins.”

“What about opinions?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“Everyone’s got one!” shouted Mr. Pug. “But no one’s got chicken-flavored Munchkins!”