IF ALL MEN ARE DOGS, WHO IS THE BEST DOG TRAINER TO TEACH THESE PUPS THOSE CUNNING AND CLEVER DOG TRICKS?
After having heard it said once too many times that all men are dogs. I thought to myself: if that's true! Who then is the dog trainer who trained these pups and taught them those cunning, clever doggy tricks? And a book was born, the "Manley book". How to Train a Wild Puppy Dog Named Manley is a work of fiction. It's a Jamaican "yawdcore" romance novel, packed full of humor, metaphoric terms, ambiguity, and innuendos, for your reading pleasure. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day here.
The names and characters depicted in this book are fictitious and not to be construed as real or associated with any actual person living or dead. This is copyright-protected work. � 2020 By E. Lloyd Kelly. All rights reserved. Note: Mature subject matters are included; parental guidance is strongly advised. So, let's talk about sex, babies, and dogs.
Introduction
When East meets West. How to Train a Wild Puppy Dog Named Manley is a West Indian romance novel. It's a "coming of age" love story? - ?Jamaican Yardie-style, a tale about a girl named Libby and a Jamaican boy named Manley, a yardie now living abroad.
Libby Dahoust is a spectacularly beautiful girl of East Indian origin and a med student at McGill University.
"And Manley!" Manley Jaxtan Woodhardt is an overexposed, oversexed Jamaican-born divorcee on the rebound. Their background dictates that they should take diametrically opposite paths to life in general, and to love in particular. However, when both their paths were to have crossed, while on route to higher learning. Sparks began to fly. Hearts got tangled up in the mix, and a rocky road seemed the only way forward. Will they manage to make it out, in one piece? Only time will tell.
...
Chapter One: Catch a sneaky, peaky puppy in action
I think I'm beginning to like my mother's side of the family just a little too much now, for my good. Yes. My physician was right, the good doctor had diagnosed that I had a severe case of swelling skin syndrome. And then, he prescribed for me, or at least he'd suggested some random remedies, which were to include me jumping off, or into, the deep end of something. What it was, I can't quite remember. I think it was into the deep end of some ice-cold water. Or something like that. I particularly liked the "deep" part of the whole thing, if nothing else.
?
Monday, August 6th, 2012. Downtown Montreal, Quebec. Still got twenty minutes to go before I'm done with this job and move on to the next. She needs to get her welding done. And I? I've been putting off the oil change thing for too long. Even a rickety old car needs its regular oil change. Right?
So there I was, still reeling from the loss of my marriage to Aylene, and flogging myself black and blue for having gone so badly off track in that arena. Life had suddenly begun to shine a light of hope in my direction again.
My business was taking off. And I was like... doing okay with the self-improvement things, one might say. But old habits tend to die hard, so there I was. Back down the road that leads right back to the lifestyle of my teenage past. Back to my old ways, my old puppy dog ways. Messing around with a girl I didn't know that well. Didn't like, and sure as hell, didn't want. But she did have something that I really wanted back then, and badly so.
On the way there, I stopped at the Caribbean Kitchen restaurant to grab myself a bite to eat. Got to get her something special too. I knew she liked Roti, so I picked up two, one for her, the other for me. I also grabbed two drinks, a soft one and a hard one. The soft one was for her, the hard one for me. One can't have Roti without something cool and refreshing to go down with it. Can he? Like, something to wash it down. I needed something long and strong. Actually, she needed the "something long." That's why I was going there. I needed the strong one, the drink that is. It was a rather hard day at work that particular day, but whenever she calls, I run to her. She said she was bored, which is always a code word for me to get there and get there fast.
"I've got the excitement that you need." I'd said, in response, "and I'm coming to you, babe. With wings on my feet."
She was at work at the time, if one could call that sort of thing work. She was babysitting the kid at that moment when she'd called. She was damn nearly asleep too, lying there on the couch. The baby was sleeping alright, and she? She was lying there alongside the baby, half asleep herself. Some sort of "work." She did wake up well enough to open the door and let me in when I got there.
She was mighty happy to have the Roti and drink too. All the red-eyed sleepiness quickly dissipated into a wide wake and alerted Miss Mira. Name-calling me: sweetheart, darling baby. "My" sweetheart, my darling baby.
Even if it's only in her delusional, demented way of thinking. If, while doing all that, it leads to getting me what I want? I can be anything.
To be continued.
WritingElk
After having heard it said once too many times that all men are dogs. I thought to myself: if that's true! Who then is the dog trainer who trained these pups and taught them those cunning, clever doggy tricks? And a book was born, the "Manley book". How to Train a Wild Puppy Dog Named Manley is a work of fiction. It's a Jamaican "yawdcore" romance novel, packed full of humor, metaphoric terms, ambiguity, and innuendos, for your reading pleasure. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day here.
The names and characters depicted in this book are fictitious and not to be construed as real or associated with any actual person living or dead. This is copyright-protected work. � 2020 By E. Lloyd Kelly. All rights reserved. Note: Mature subject matters are included; parental guidance is strongly advised. So, let's talk about sex, babies, and dogs.
Introduction
When East meets West. How to Train a Wild Puppy Dog Named Manley is a West Indian romance novel. It's a "coming of age" love story? - ?Jamaican Yardie-style, a tale about a girl named Libby and a Jamaican boy named Manley, a yardie now living abroad.
Libby Dahoust is a spectacularly beautiful girl of East Indian origin and a med student at McGill University.
"And Manley!" Manley Jaxtan Woodhardt is an overexposed, oversexed Jamaican-born divorcee on the rebound. Their background dictates that they should take diametrically opposite paths to life in general, and to love in particular. However, when both their paths were to have crossed, while on route to higher learning. Sparks began to fly. Hearts got tangled up in the mix, and a rocky road seemed the only way forward. Will they manage to make it out, in one piece? Only time will tell.
...
Chapter One: Catch a sneaky, peaky puppy in action
I think I'm beginning to like my mother's side of the family just a little too much now, for my good. Yes. My physician was right, the good doctor had diagnosed that I had a severe case of swelling skin syndrome. And then, he prescribed for me, or at least he'd suggested some random remedies, which were to include me jumping off, or into, the deep end of something. What it was, I can't quite remember. I think it was into the deep end of some ice-cold water. Or something like that. I particularly liked the "deep" part of the whole thing, if nothing else.
?
Monday, August 6th, 2012. Downtown Montreal, Quebec. Still got twenty minutes to go before I'm done with this job and move on to the next. She needs to get her welding done. And I? I've been putting off the oil change thing for too long. Even a rickety old car needs its regular oil change. Right?
So there I was, still reeling from the loss of my marriage to Aylene, and flogging myself black and blue for having gone so badly off track in that arena. Life had suddenly begun to shine a light of hope in my direction again.
My business was taking off. And I was like... doing okay with the self-improvement things, one might say. But old habits tend to die hard, so there I was. Back down the road that leads right back to the lifestyle of my teenage past. Back to my old ways, my old puppy dog ways. Messing around with a girl I didn't know that well. Didn't like, and sure as hell, didn't want. But she did have something that I really wanted back then, and badly so.
On the way there, I stopped at the Caribbean Kitchen restaurant to grab myself a bite to eat. Got to get her something special too. I knew she liked Roti, so I picked up two, one for her, the other for me. I also grabbed two drinks, a soft one and a hard one. The soft one was for her, the hard one for me. One can't have Roti without something cool and refreshing to go down with it. Can he? Like, something to wash it down. I needed something long and strong. Actually, she needed the "something long." That's why I was going there. I needed the strong one, the drink that is. It was a rather hard day at work that particular day, but whenever she calls, I run to her. She said she was bored, which is always a code word for me to get there and get there fast.
"I've got the excitement that you need." I'd said, in response, "and I'm coming to you, babe. With wings on my feet."
She was at work at the time, if one could call that sort of thing work. She was babysitting the kid at that moment when she'd called. She was damn nearly asleep too, lying there on the couch. The baby was sleeping alright, and she? She was lying there alongside the baby, half asleep herself. Some sort of "work." She did wake up well enough to open the door and let me in when I got there.
She was mighty happy to have the Roti and drink too. All the red-eyed sleepiness quickly dissipated into a wide wake and alerted Miss Mira. Name-calling me: sweetheart, darling baby. "My" sweetheart, my darling baby.
Even if it's only in her delusional, demented way of thinking. If, while doing all that, it leads to getting me what I want? I can be anything.
To be continued.
WritingElk
Support E. Lloyd K (The WritingElk)
