A good 'ole story from my algebra II teacher Mr. Locke (or as some call him MLocke)

This will be entirely from the point of view of Mr. Locke; it is not actually me who said this, even though I use the word "I."


I was just opening the envelope I had received from one of my colleagues. I read the short card inside that said "please come to my house from a christmas eve party at 9:00." I went over my schedule in my head to make sure it was free, and sure enough, it was.

Christmas eve rolls around and I arrive at the party. I see a lot of other teachers there, from every subject, even those stupid history teachers.

It was a good party; everyone was dancing, eating, drinking, having lots of fun. But there was one catch: The dog.

I hated dogs.

I tried to have as much fun as I could, and it was fun socializing when the dog was around. But when he was, I was just instantly put into a bad mood. It smelled bad, licked me, all this stuff that I hated.

So the party was starting to come to an end and people were starting to leave; it was late. I began to wind down and started to get ready to leave. I went to say goodbye to my fellow teacher who was hosting the party.

Me: "Hey, thanks so much for having everyone over! This was a lot of fun!"

Teacher: "Oh yeah, no problem at all. I'm glad you had a good time. And you can see yourself out, but make sure the dog doesn't get out."

Me: "Sure thing. See you next Monday."

I began to make my way to the door, and the dog realized that I was getting ready to leave. He started to follow me, and I thought I wasn't even going to have to worry about accidentally letting the dog out.

I made it to the door, and sure enough, the dog is following me. I slowly opened the door, doing that awkward thing where you push your whole body tightly against the small opening and try to squeeze out.

Yet, sure enough, the dog slipped through my legs. As it was going through my legs, I tried to shut the door, in an attempt to keep it from escaping. It got out... mostly.

Because of my hatred for dogs, I was already a little bit P.O.'ed from the dog being all up in my air, so I closed the door a little bit more aggressively than necessary... right on the dogs tail. The door shut, and the dog was attached to the door via tail.

I was completely astounded at what I had done, and had no idea what to do. The tail stopped moving, and there was clearly something wrong with it - it might have been broken.

I decided to just load the dog into my SUV and find a vet, without the dog's owner knowing (I felt very horrible).

I drove for 3 hours trying to find a vet, but could not find a vet that dealt with tails. No matter where I drove, I could not find one.

Suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel appeared. It was Walmart, the #1 re-tail-er in the country!