Intel Chris lives on 14th Street, and sometimes when he commutes to work (this sentence could also be written: "Chris commutes to work. Sometimes."), he passes the neighborhood dog walker. He's always amazed at two things: one, how well-behaved and co-ordinated his pack of pit bulls and Shih Tzus is, and two, how ridiculously attractive the guy is himself. Chris has never really known whether, without the dogs, he would be cute, or whether it is the presence of over ten puppies that makes someone automatically fuckable. (Let's not follow that logic too far ... ) Evidence has surfaced suggesting that it might be the latter. Somewhere in Manhattan, near the foot of the Queensboro Bridge, a dog walker has so bewitched one girl that she's taken to leaving forlorn messages for him on the sidewalk, in chalk:
Dog Walker: Please come visit sometimes. I dream about you. I have a letter for you -the Russian Girl. P.S. I love you but I am very shy
Someone needs to find that girl and tell her that once you take away the twelve Golden Retrievers and a puggle, "Dog Walker" goes from looking like an old-school Mickey Rourke to, well, Mickey Rourke now.