“I have a very small dog. He’s one of those dogs that look like tiny greyhounds. I think they come from baby deer. I named him Fawn.

His bones are so thin—they are like the ghosts of ancient toothpicks.

I have to get a new dog every time the breeze blows hard. Little kids marvel at my dog because I can fly him like a kite in a gentle breeze.

Sometimes I take him off the leash and when kids are around I pretend to do a magic trick by waiting for an opportune wind gust. I wave my hands and say ‘abracadabra!’ and Fawn disappears. Then I point at a speck far away in the sky and say ‘see, there he goes, wave to him kids!’

Sometimes when I am walking alone, people ask where Fawn is and I tell them: ‘Arkansas’.

When they look at me funny I explain, ‘there was a lot of wind yesterday, but the airtag in his collar showed he landed there’.

I’m on my 42nd Fawn. I have to get a new one every few weeks.

People don’t realize that the reason dogs are fascinated by trees and fire hydrants is that… for dogs like Fawn, life is merely the transitory moments where you traverse the paths between reliable windbreaks. Anything that shelters you from suddenly going airborne is holy. They pee there in order to add them to their map of how to stay on Earth.

I know cops have dogs, but my dog is a pilot’s dog. Because the only way you’re going to stay together is via aircraft.

He’s like his own airforce. I think there are large collectives of Fawn’s relatives that live in clouds. It’s safer up there, and some of them blow up into the sky and never come down.

When people say ‘The Sky’s the Limit’, Fawn gets a really weird look on his face and starts mewling like a terrified cat.

The Wizard of Oz was really just about a nightmare Fawn has, where a big wind comes and takes you a terrifying place with bat-winged monkeys.

I can have Fawn and miss him at the same time, because there are 41 other Fawns … whereabouts unknown.”

— Bobby Yingo at the Kennel Club

#comedy #comedyskit