Wishbone had seen better days. Back then people asked him, “What’s the story, Wishbone?” He’d reply with a bark and everybody would laugh. People loved Wishbone. Writers like Charles Dickens and Mark Twain appeared regularly on his show to advertise their latest books. The mid to late ‘90s were a wonderful time for Wishbone. PBS paid him hundreds of thousands of dollars every year. Life was good.
Then, the show abruptly ended. Viewers moved on. Wishbone had a few books out that showcased his skillful poetry, but most people didn’t care. If you watch PBS, you don’t buy books. You absorb them through osmosis. Besides, for the price of one Wishbone book, viewers could make a pledge and get a delightful tote bag instead. Wishbone’s literary career languished as a result.
One writer took pity on poor Wishbone. Jonathan Franzen told Wishbone he could try out for a show based off of his brother. It was called Frasier and starred Kelsey Grammar. The previous ‘Eddie Crane’ had been killed after John Mahoney accidentally sat on him. The staff loved Wishbone. Frasier viewers adored Wishbone. Wishbone got catapulted into a whole new stratum of cool. Entertainment Weekly did cover stories about him. Wishbone got as many bitches as he wanted. NBC paid so much more than PBS.
Frasier ended in 2004. For a while, Wishbone simply lived off of his savings. But fame caused him to develop some terrible vices, like cocaine addiction. People asked him “What’s the story, Wishbone?” and he’d get upset. Once he bit the face off of a small child for asking that innocuous question. The parents sued Wishbone and he eventually settled out of court.
Money ran out. It had been years since Wishbone had landed any new gigs. No one wanted to hire a surly has-been dog. They told him, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Wishbone began hanging out with other has-beens, like Billy Crystal. Billy Crystal would go on and on about how cool he used to be in the ‘80s. Wishbone had isolated all of his other friends with his reprehensible behavior. Oddly, Billy Crystal didn’t seem to mind Wishbone’s outrageousness. In fact, Billy Crystal appeared to enjoy the many times Wishbone defecated on his chest.
The 2011 Oscars were the beginning of the end for Wishbone and Billy Crystal. Billy’s performance was so flaccid not even Viagra could save it. Wishbone knew Billy would want to party hard to forget what an abysmal failure he was. Before Billy got home, Wishbone had purchased at least $80 worth of Combos and Coors Lite.
On Monday, February 27th, Wishbone awoke with a hangover. Billy and Wishbone had spent the entire night drinking excessively. Each one had vomited. Wishbone ate his own vomit. The vomit tasted like 7-11 food. Next, he walked over to a half-conscious Billy Crystal. Billy Crystal’s vomit tasted like a lifetime of regret, sadness, and defeat. Sort of like Cantaloupe.
Wishbone looked at his reflection in a puddle of spilled Coors Lite. “Seems ruff,” Wishbone thought to himself wearing a dog facial expression. Wishbone went to the toilet to get a drink. Unfortunately the toilet was filled with what appeared to be Tropical Skittles. “Nothing to drink either,” Wishbone barked to no one in particular.
Wishbone decided it was time to go. Packing up his things into a doggie bag, he set off on a new adventure. Would he succeed at starting anew? Where would he go? Was it too late to wag another tale? He sighed quietly and said to himself, “What’s the story, Wishbone?” before setting off to Chicago.