Jon Ash's Poodle 1

Revenge of the Sith! Star Wars III! Alright - I can't pretend to be a big fan, but I'm certainly looking forward to watching it soon...

I have a little suggestion (unless it's already been done) - they (the big studios) ought to make a film about the plague - the black death. The opening scene could have the nursery rhyme 'Ring O’roses...a pocket full of posies...atishoo, atishoo...we all fall down...' (it refers to the signs and symptoms of the plague). C'mon - it's not that bad - you could throw in some historical violence, tragedy, comedy, even a love story on the sidelines. Perhaps an 'escape scenario' with survivors (a family in the city, lovers separated, etc) serendipitously meeting up in a safe haven. Alright, kitsch, I know - but it's food (or rather, regurgitated mush) for thought if they ever run out of 'ideas.'

Here's another ridiculous story that should hopefully make you wail with anguish as you fail to anticipate the boundaries the near-moribund state of my nearly morally-bankrupt mind...

Jon Ash's Poodle was a small-ish creature, bought from a pet dealer in the suburbs of Durban. Jon was a 50-something-ish batchelor, whose sole aim in life was to further his own hedonistic goals - the pleasure of the flesh, as it were. As a young man he had been encouraged by his family to pursue a career in investment banking, which he did with a quiet tenacity and ferocity that few would expect from such an unassuming individual. Despite a milieu of setbacks, Mr Jon Ash displayed a single-minded devotion to his cause - except that he did not know exactly what this cause was. He finally realised this whilst playing a round of office-golf in the boardroom of the Goldman Sachs mergers and acquisitions head office; it was not a pleasant realisation and he was, thereafter, an even unhappier man than previously.
You must realise that this information is crucial to understanding how and why he decided to become a transplant surgeon - which is, of course, entirely related to his decision to purchase a poodle from a South African pet-shop (which was actually a front for an Irish money laundering syndicate - but that's another story).
The poodle itself was a dainty animal, with sparkling eyes and a liking for double-chocolate (anything with double-chocolate). Its left hind leg had been injured in a freak accident; fortunately an experienced veterinary surgeon had patched up this wound with the utmost care and the poodle soon returned to perfect health, although it couldn't quite jump as high as before. Indeed, the poodle had previously been a champion show-dog and the loss of its ability to make dazzling leaps through hula-hoops was a source of great distress to the poor animal; nevertheless the poodle bore this burden stoically.
Meanwhile, in the throes of his self-inflicted anguish, Jon decided that he required a companion - someone - or preferably, someTHING for him to squeeze when he was frustrated, feed when he was upset and shave when he was bored. He needed a poodle....