A dialogue about pugness

Hyperion—Awww… melts my heart. (Grabs pug from Egeiros and lets it down) Go free and roam the hills as you were meant to, you saucy little bastard. By Zeus! That’s where we can begin Egeiros!

Egeiros—I believe so, Hyperion. Sauce is pretty tasty.

Hyperion—Not sauce, sauciness! Is not sauciness essential to pugs?

Egeiros—I don’t know, they seem more like sausages to me. That almost makes them cannibals, don’t you think? They’re always eating those sausages which grow on those bushes by the dumpster Hegel cursed with that horrible sorcery ritual that always goes wrong next Thursday. Time loops are pretty weird. (*Hegel, known for his time-traveling through different dimensions of existence.")

*The Wolf snapped out of his sleep as he heard the name Hegel, his idol, for he had made it his aim to become the greatest sorcerer there ever would be in all possible worlds, even those where sorcery was metaphysically impossible. To this end he had been working on mastery of Leibniz, who had disappeared after publishing his Monadology, for God realized that he had not created the best possible world where he could hide, for Leibniz had clearly found him in the gorillionth world in the dimension described by the square root of the scrotum equation discovered by the retarded trickster god of pure logic, Athene. The Wolf listened half-assedly to the stupid conversation happening on the other side of the fag tree, for he had long ago left aside the silly dogmatism of reason and had been liberated by the aesthetic suspension of the logical.*

Hyperion—Yeah, what’s with that time loop? Anyway, hmmm… sauciness… What is sauciness? Look it up on urban dictionary.

Egeiros—Sauciness: You can use saucy to describe someone who likes to cause trouble, but usually in a playful and funny way. Saucy is also a good word for a person who really likes to flirt. Well, pugs sure aren’t the second. I guess they are playful, funny looking, and troublesome little bastards. Hey! Who is the father of all these pugs anyway?

Hyperion—Hmmm… you know, I don’t know. They’re all grills. How the hell are they reproducing? Ok, let’s recap: Pugs are essentially saucy, little, and bastards. I guess that’s something.

Egeiros—Don’t forget sausage-like grills.

Hyperion—No! That’s retarded!

Egeiros—Hey! Don’t call me that! At least I help a lot more than that caveman, Hume. He usually just says random obvious stuff, and worse, stupid stuff like causality being untrue. At least I’m not that bad.

*Hume, the last of his kind—homo empiricus analyticus—was a legendary skeptical creature that was said to live in a cave on the cliffs overseeing the Academy. Many went and searched for him in weekly scouting parties along with the big-foot club, but they never found him. They say those that do never come back for they return to the cave with him, never to see the light again.

Hyperion—Fine, saucy little sausage grill bastards.

Egeiros—Ugh! What do you mean by this? Isn’t this good enough? (Grabs another stray pug and holds it up. It drools on his hand and he lets it go and cleans his hand on the tree.)

Hyperion—Hmmm… well, it seems that little, sausage-like, grill, and bastard are pretty easy to check off. They’re analytic concepts, so we don’t even need to ask about them. But what about saucy? How do we know how saucy they are?

Egeiros—That’s easy, you just taste them and see how spicy they are! I wouldn’t try it though, you’re white and might not be able to handle it. What about their cute little curly tail? We can measure that! And how little they are. You’re right about the others, they’re analytic.

Hyperion—Dirty analytics…

Egeiros—Yeah, fucking analytics, man!

Hyperion—You know they’re all into anal since they always have that stupid formal logic stick up their ass.

Egeiros—See? I’m telling you man, reason is not the only way to know things!
Hyperion—Egeiros, I’m not eating from the fag tree, for fuck’s sake we all told you you’ve changed for the worse after eating those figs.

Egeiros—Oh, please Hyperion! It’s just stupid figs, they don’t even taste like anything. Those sausage bushes are sucking up all the nutrients of the soil and ruining the flavor of all the crops.

Hyperion—But… but those bushes are what keep my pugs alive. If it wasn’t for those sausages their population would have died since they’re too dumb to hunt actual things. Ffffffff… Am I wrong Egeiros?

Egeiros—About what?

Hyperion—Am I thinking this puginess stuff wrong?

Egeiros—I told you the answer already. (Without looking grabs another animal passing by and holds it up)

Hyperion—By her clitus! What a hideous pug! (falls back a bit in shock)


Egeiros—(looks down at pug) Oh! Wait… this isn’t a pug. Compared to one, though, you’re right, it is pretty ugly. Say… how do we know things are ugly anyway?
Hyperion—Hmm, well-

Egeiros—Stop! I meant it as a rhetorical question. Obviously it’s ugly because it is, if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be perceiving it that way.

Hyperion—Whoa, Egeiros, that might be getting too close to Humeanism. You don’t want to end up in his cave do you?

Egeiros—You know, why can’t you entertain an idea without accepting it? I don’t like Hume either, he’s stupid, but you’re so defensive about your ideas.

Hyperion—Hume sucks because Pluto proved him wrong long ago Egeiros! Only you and The Wolf say crazy things like this.

Egeiros—You know craziness was proven to be a capitalist invention last year by Michael Fucko, right?

Hyperion—Dammit, we’re getting off topic. Fuck Michael Fucko. I need to know what makes pug so puggy!

Egeiros—Missplaced. Concreteness. I’m telling youuuuu.

Hyperion—Alright, forget the sauciness. How do we know how little is perfect for a pug?

Egeiros—I don’t know, don’t you think Yui would know? She always talks about her feminine penis. She would know about perfect small things.

Hyperion—I’m not asking Yui about that!

Egeiros—Ok, well how big is too big?

Hyperion—Whoa, that’s too meta Egeiros. We’re talking pug small here, not small small.

Egeiros—The Wolf wouldn’t be afraid to talk about it, you know!

*The Wolf finally got tired of hearing this conversation going nowhere and walked around from behind the tree. He kicked dirt on Hyperion and Egeiros. They were spooked for a moment by his wild visage, but he sat in front of them in the dirt.*

The Wolf—God, you two fucking go nowhere. For fuck’s sake Egeiros, I thought you were becoming an enlightened ubermensch who knew reason was a lie started by Socrates. When will you realize that guy was about as real as Jesus, who clearly never existed. Hyperion, I’ll tell you about the true essence of pugs, I’m a self-taught pug appraiser and I know a good pug when I see one. I wouldn’t have sold these pugs to the smuggler who sold them to you if I didn’t know all about pugs.

Hyperion—Mein gott! If this is true, Wolf, I’ll be in debt to you forever. If I know what makes the puggiest pug I can steal the best one in the city and have it all for myself. Tell me now, what makes pugs so puggy?

The Wolf—What makes pugs so puggy is that they are ugly and cute all at once.

*Fersure walked by and heard this*.

Fersure—For sure! Pugs are ugly beautiful, saucy little bastards. Bless their little souls.

The Wolf—For sure, Fersure!

*Fersure picks up a pug and walks on with it home.

Egeiros—What?! That’s stupid. If we’re going to just say random things, Wolf, we may just freely speculate about the pug as a society of prehending experiences freely enjoying themselves in their becoming.

The Wolf—How about I make your society prehend this, Egeiros? (The Wolf throws a fig at Egeiros)

*Hyperion walks over and takes the fig from Egeiros.*

Hyperion—Egeiros, go home! I won’t let you eat these horrible figs, they’re pure sophistic evil!

Egeiros—Fiiiiiiiine. Don’t argue The Wolf for too long, you know what happens… I’ll see you later. We’re still on to watch that new anime right?

Hyperion—Oh… uh… yeah, I guess. See you later.

The Wolf—That guy still following the white headed one?

Hyperion—Yeah, I honestly don’t get it.

The Wolf—Sophistry, I tell ya. Just because you can say things doesn’t make them meaningful.

Hyperion—Isn’t that what you do? Just say stuff as if it’s true and makes sense?

The Wolf—Me? Fuck no, I read Hegel and Schelling. Not my fault the rest of you are too stupid to understand it. Dialectics man…

Hyperion—Uh… so pugs are puggy because they are ugly and cute? Don’t you mean they’re cute because they’re ugly?

The Wolf—Oh, ye ye yeah! I meant to say beautiful and ugly.

Hyperion—How the hell does that make sense? Isn’t that contradictory?

The Wolf—Yup. Dialectics, son.

Hyperion—But that doesn’t make sense!

The Wolf—Your mom doesn’t make sense.

Hyperion—What?! What does that have to do with you making no sense.

The Wolf—I told you, it’s dialectics man. If you understood the world you’d realize nature, and therefore pugs, are dialectical.

Hyperion—Wait, you’re just fucking with me!

The Wolf—Wait! Don’t leave. Alright, let’s recap where you got to with that other guy, what was his name?

Hyperion—Egeiros?

The Wolf—Yeah, but who cares? Pugs are saucy little sausage grill bastards right?

Hyperion—Yeah.

The Wolf—Hmm… ok. (picks up a pug) Look at this little fucker. Can you imagine one cuter?

Hyperion—Well, yeah. It could be a bit fatter, could do without the slight mange, be a little bit shorter, and have a pudgier nose.

The Wolf—Huh, you’re right. You’re a pretty good appraiser. Wait! How do you know this?

Hyperion—Uh… I’ve seen a lot of pugs?

The Wolf—That’s awfully close to what Hume would say, you sure about that?

Hyperion—Oh! N-no! Uh, I mean, I don’t know.

The Wolf—(Picks up a stone) You lying to me? Did you buy that book from the same crazy Slovenian?

Hyperion—I’m just talking about recollection and forms I learned from Pluto! Calm down man!

The Wolf—Yeah, well, I don’t need your stupid forms and recollection. I have intellectual intuition of the ungrund. (picks up pug and gets right in front of Hyperion and whispers) The dark ground and I are one. (Squeezes pug and it yelps)

Hyperion—Let it go! Don’t hurt that poor pug, it didn’t do a thing to you!

The Wolf—Alright, but first you have to answer something.

Hyperion—W-what?

The Wolf—Is a pug true in-and-for-itself?

Hyperion—What?!

The Wolf—Ha! (throws pug down well behind him) Well it if it was, it aint now!

*At that moment Hyperion wakes up screaming. It was all just a dream caused by his late night nachos after reading Plato’s Euthyphro before going to sleep.*

The Tree should have poisoned every single person there.

This is amazing.