Bobby and Frankie went into the Clerk of Records office to apply for a marriage license. They waited their turn quietly and respectfully. They held hands and smooched a little. The truth is, the fire department had to hose them down.

“We want to apply for a marriage license”, Bobby told the clerk.

“Which one of you”, she asked.

“Both of us”, Bobby told her.

“You and the guy or you and the dog?”, the clerk asked.

“Huh? Me and Frankie! Dog? What’s that crack for? You think we’re some kind of weirdos? Huh? That it? Marry a dog? That’s insulting. That really pisses me off”, Bobby angrily told her.

“Hey, I don’t know. I might have missed something on the news this morning. What’s wrong with marrying your dog?”, she responded.

“Marry a dog? That’s, that’s...bestiality. What do you think I am? No, issue the license to me and Frankie?”, Bobby said.

“Bobby, that’s my dog you’re talking about. You don’t like my dog?”, Frankie asked.

“Yea, I like him. I wouldn’t want to marry him, that’s all”, Bobby said.

“Marry me and the dog’s part of it. Now that I think about it, you never have treated this dog right. Tell me his name”, Frankie asked.

“Name? Name. Hold on, I know his name. It’s, uh, I know it. It starts with a T. Frankie, where are you going? It’s just a dog. Frankie!”