Bernard yawned.

He began to sit up in bed

He very quickly lay down again.

Extremely carefully, he slowly sat up a second time.

Nothing happened.

Bernard checked the floor next to his bed for signs of anything that looked out of place or potentially dangerous in some way. Just the other day, a number of marbles had been scattered there, the effect of which was that Bernard spend most of the morning with severe back pain. Even more drastic things had happened before – such as finding himself inconveniently nailed to the ceiling. Yet today everything seemed to be normal.

He checked under the bed – having cleaned there just yesterday, he would know that anything new had a malevolent purpose. Everything had been relocated into his closet. When he was told to clean that, he would simply move it all back under his bed, and nobody ever caught on. But the area remained just as clean as he had left it yesterday.

Ominous, he thought, as he walked over to his bureau, nervously looking around the whole way. He knew from painful experience far better than to open any of the drawers haphazardly; it took methodical caution to get his clothes for the day. Bernard grasped the handle of the top drawer and pulled it out quickly, leaping back the instant that it was fully open.

As usual this morning, nothing happened.

Bernard went through all of the other drawers in the same way, some to grab the day’s clothing, others merely to check for a set prank that he didn’t want to blunder into later. He also was cautious in opening the closet door for two reasons – he didn’t want either some of his junk or some dastardly prank to come tumbling out. The closet too was absent of tricks.

Maybe he slept in this morning, Bernard thought. It wasn’t common to get this far into his daily routine without having something occur that would leave him hungry for revenge for the rest of the day. Snatching his treasured beanie cap off of a hook by the wall (after inspecting it, of course) and jamming it on his head, he opened the door, walked out of his room, and never even saw the trip line.

The next thing that he knew he was eating a hearty helping of rug, lying face down of the floor of the hall.

“Dandy!”

The mischievous canine, who until now had been hiding just inside the bathroom, leapt out to survey the results of his work. Seeing Bernard flat on the hall carpet, he began to laugh, and lightly leapt over the boy’s comatose body and began descending the staircase. “That’s not even a new one, beanie-boy. You have got to be the biggest sap around.”

Bernard didn’t move.

Dandy stopped halfway down the stairs and looked back over his shoulder. “Aw, give me a break Bernard. You’re fine; get up.” The addressed party remained in his sprawled position.

The dog began to feel real concern. “Bernard?” he asked, walking slowly back up the stairs. “C’mon, man, this isn’t funny. Are you okay?” Leaning over his friend, Dandy shook him lightly. “Wake up, beanie-boy! Bernard! Wake – whoa!”

Bernard had, in one fluid motion, leapt up off of the floor and snarled in Dandy’s face. Startled, the latter stumbled backwards until his rear foot found no purchase. Screaming, Dandy tumbled backwards down the staircase, his yellow-tufted head connecting with every third step with consecutive thumps. Flailing his arms in a desperate effort to control himself, he managed to catch the second-to-last banister support.

The effect of this grab was that Dandy was swung around, the railing catching him in the midsection and knocking all of the wind out of him. Gasping for air, he fell limply down the last couple of steps and lay limply at the bottom groaning and wheezing. Bernard took the stairs two at a time, hopped over Dandy, and walked into the kitchen, whistling a tune.

There’s a lesson in this, but I refuse to learn it, the dog thought.

Mae, Bernard’s mother, had made omelets for the family’s breakfast. His father, George, had poured a can of food into a bowl for Dandy. Despite having mostly near-human qualities, Dandy still did eat dog food at times, ingesting about the same amount of regular cuisine. He held a clear preference for the latter, but would tolerate the canned chow as long as it was sprinkled with a few garnishes. True to the agreement that had been worked out, George had added grated cheese, ketchup, spices, and a few other condiments to the mush that sat in the food bowl. A glass of orange juice - instead of the water bowl most dogs would use – was also set on the small tray set on the floor that Dandy ate off of.

The canine himself came limping in thirty seconds afterwards, muttering something under his breath that Bernard was sure involved the word “revenge”. Turning his attention to his omelet, Bernard reached for the ketchup that he generally adorned his omelet with before sprinkling it with salt. As Mae was sitting down, George reached to use the salt before his son – he too enjoyed slightly saliferous foods.

Dandy looked up from his bowl for a moment, long enough to see George tilting the shaker. “No, wait!” he cried.

Too late. The loosened top of the shaker had come off the instant that it was turned over and a fountain of salt began to spray onto George’s omelet. He jerked it back as soon as he realized what was happening, and another salt shower flew across the table, each grain making a tiny noise as it struck table, floor, newspaper, or whatever else happened to be in its path.

Omelet ruined and kitchen salinated, George left for work a little early that morning.

Bernard glared daggers at Dandy, who suddenly seemed to be a lot more interested in his food than ever before. Mae groaned, stood up, and went to fetch the vacuum cleaner. Deciding that he would pass on salt that morning, Bernard wolfed down his breakfast and decided that the activities of the day would best be taken outdoors. His mother was fuming as she scooped the grains remaining on the table into one hand and tossed them in the trash.

Mae picked up the newspaper and shook the salt left on it into the trash bin. She began to place the paper back on the table when an idea seemed to come to her. A vicious grin crossed her face. Rolling up the paper and grasping it firmly in one hand, her arm flew in one fluid motion. The paper made a soft thwack as it connected with the back of Dandy’s skull and drove him headfirst into his food bowl. Satisfied, Mae replaced the paper on the table and went upstairs to do some ironing.

Seething, Dandy splashed warm water and soap into his face and rubbed vigorously. His yellow tuft had a number of ugly brown streaks left from the damp dog chow, and he smelled strongly of the vile stuff. Through about three minutes of nonstop work, Dandy managed to restore his fur’s natural color. Now he reeked of wet dog – which was, of course, precisely what he was. The tuft lay matted against the top of his head. He picked up a blow-dryer and managed to get himself at least semi-dry. Now his tuft looked frizzled and stuck out in every direction. Growing impatient, Dandy decided to leave it that way.

He walked down the stairs into the garage and immediately became wary. If he knew Bernard at all, the beanie-head wouldn’t be settled with the payback he’d already dished out. Most likely he was waiting just around one of the corners of the house with a water balloon or a hose or a –

Yes, Dandy thought, just as I imagined. The boy’s largest water gun – cannon might have been more appropriate, he could hardly carry it – was vacant from its usual place on a shelf. The gun shot water like a fireman’s hose, but used it up quickly and took a good amount of pumping to recharge. After pondering the implications of this new development, Dandy smirked and grabbed a pair of necessary items from the garage before stepping out into the outdoor world.

For his scheme to succeed, Dandy would have to approach Bernard from the front; if Bernard happened upon him while he was facing the other way, Dandy would end up far wetter than he already was. The best cover was in the bushes left of the garage, so he inched out to a spot on the driveway where he would be vulnerable to fire from that direction.

He guessed correctly. Bernard came leaping out of the bushes, bazooka at the ready. “Hah!” he shouted and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could. With a gurgling noise, a spurt of water flew from the muzzle directly at Dandy.

He was ready. In a flash, Dandy brought the garbage bin lid around in front of him as a shield. The water careened off of the inside of the lid harmlessly and splashed in every direction, a couple of drops even coming back on Bernard, who looked stunned. Grinning savagely, Dandy bared the second item he had snatched from the garage – a lightweight water pistol that happened to have been conveniently loaded. It certainly lacked the force, size, and volume of Bernard’s weapon, but it would do.

Oh yes, it would do.

Dandy fired. The gun had a lot of power for its size, and it caught Bernard right between the eyes, knocking his hat fifteen feet behind him. He staggered and dropped his water cannon on the grass. Dandy pumped up and emptied the tank into Bernard’s stomach, soaking his red and yellow striped T-shirt and plastering it against his skin. Still blinded by the water covering his face, Bernard tripped, toppled, and fell onto the freshly-cut lawn, grass clippings sticking to anything wet that they touched. Since he was rolling in panic, a good amount of them stuck.

Dandy tossed the garbage can lid on the boy’s head and went to go get a drink. He doubted Bernard would be needing one.

Bernard was furious. All of his traditional t-shirts were now dirty, which meant that he was going to have to pick something else to wear until the wash finished. He settled on a Spiderman-styled shirt, which was the closest he could get to matching his cap. No matter how grassy it got, he wasn’t parting from that cap for a moment. Bernard having traveled to foreign worlds for the sheer purpose of rescuing his beanie, it was staying firmly attached to his head.

A new trick was necessary, but Bernard was nowhere as good at them as Dandy was. Simply walking up to the dog and beating the snot out of him somehow wouldn’t be satisfying enough. Plus, as much as Bernard hated to admit it, he had attacked Dandy, not the other way around. Bernard paced the upstairs hallway, racking his mind. Water pranks had been overused, too.

Perhaps pain wasn’t particularly necessary for a good prank. What if Bernard simply made a laughingstock out of the canine in front of the family? That wasn’t that good; neither of his parents thought much of Dandy in the first place. So who did have a halfway decent opinion of him?

Bernard’s first thought was Mistake, Dandy’s little brother who, for the most part, idolized the older dog. However, knowing Mistake, the puppy would find it funny at the moment and forget all about it by the next day. Dandy had embarrassed himself in front of Mistake enough times as it was, and neither one seemed to care or remember. It would have to be something more drastic.

That was it. Maryweather.

Dandy’s psuedo-girlfriend, with whom he was in a constant cycle of impressing and infuriating, had an outlook on Dandy that blew with the wind. A little rumor introduced into the system might make for some very interesting fireworks. And Bernard knew just how to get that rumor through to its target too.

Fifteen minutes later, he picked up the phone and dialed Audrey’s number.

Audrey lived next door – her family owned Maryweather, and she was friends with Bernard – usually. She harbored a distaste for Dandy, and Maryweather’s involvements with him, but would certainly not promote something she knew to be an outrageous lie. So Bernard would have to make her believe his mendacity. If she did, the very first thing that she would do was inform Maryweather, not out of malice towards Dandy but simply for the concern of her dog’s general welfare.

Bernard hung up the phone, satisfied. His fabrication had been top-notch, guaranteed to create enmity between the best of friends. He had come up with something vicious and completely false but that, after even a quick look at Dandy’s personality, could easily be believed by anyone.

Three-quarters of an hour passed, while Bernard waited for the inevitable to occur. Then, out his window, he saw Maryweather storming across the backyard towards the back porch, where Dandy was reading a novel reclining on a lawn chair. He lifted his sunglasses as Maryweather approached. Bernard kept the window shut so he couldn’t hear, but from what he could see Maryweather looked absolutely livid and was yelling at a perplexed Dandy, who was trying in vain to defend himself. Finally Maryweather threw her hands into the air and walked off, leaving Dandy looking very surprised and very puzzled.

Bernard was almost cackling with glee. Perfect vengeance! He waited five minutes, then tiptoed downstairs to see what effects this latest trick had left on Dandy. Hiding behind a wall, he peeked out and saw Dandy sitting in a recliner and staring at the wall. He looked absolutely crushed; his face devoid of any emotion save misery. His eyes were completely blank. He was obviously wondering why on earth Maryweather thought such horrible lies about him. And, quite obviously, he never suspected the true perpetrator.

Suddenly Bernard felt like an absolute heel. What had he done? Out of pure spite, he had thrown his beloved dog’s romantic life into shambles. Maryweather might never speak to Dandy again after this. No prank that the roguish canine had ever played would deserve such awful retribution. He, Bernard, would have to undo the disaster that he had caused when a simple exchange of pranks had gone much too far.

Dandy was in emotional hell. Things had been going so well with Maryweather; it had been ages since their last fight. He had been trying his hardest to be civil; whenever she was around he was consistently as kind as his naturally impish personality would allow. When she wasn’t around, of course, he still exercised his care-free lifestyle that earned him so much dislike. But never, never in a million years would he do something like she had accused him of! Who would say something so awful about him?

His first thought was Audrey, who had always held a mild dislike for him, but he threw that one out quickly. Audrey had no reason to be particularly angry at him lately, and she wouldn’t try to drive him and Maryweather apart so viciously. A second suspicion was his evil doppelganger, but he tossed that too for lack of motive. “Evil Dandy” wanted power, not to mess with people’s love lives.

Suddenly Dandy realized the only person that he could think of who played such awful scams for fun. Me, he thought. It’s almost like I’m on the receiving end of one of my own tricks. Did others really feel this awful after what he did to them? He had never had any idea!

I guess I really owe Bernard an apology, Dandy thought. All these years I’ve been doing such terrible things to him, and now that I’m on the other side of things I can really see what a jerk I’ve been.

Bernard. Bernard! What if Bernard – they’d been going at each other for a good portion of the day; what if this was his next bid? That had to be it! Bernard had spread the filthy rumor! Why that little – Dandy thought. I ought to –

He ought to do what? Take even more revenge? Escalate their little war to an even higher plane? Cut even deeper wounds that would eventually leave nothing but deeper scars? No, Dandy realized, I deserved what I got – even if it was untrue, I thoroughly deserved it.

It must have just been too much abuse – Bernard had almost never struck back at him before – never in true malice, at least. Sure, they’d chased each other around the house a few times, but it all generally dissolved into a laughing fit – except for the few times when one or both of them ended up in the hospital. Always Dandy’s fault, his fault, my fault…

Maryweather had locked herself in a room and refused to speak with anyone, so Bernard had to settle with rushing out an stammered apologetic explanation to Audrey. “I never really meant – I didn’t – I’m really sorry,” he finished, on the verge of tears.

Audrey looked sympathetic. “You made a mistake, Bernard, it’s okay,” she said. “Probably the best thing for you to do is go explain yourself to Dandy – I’ll deal with Maryweather and forward your apology. I know she’ll understand once she knows – don’t worry about it. I think I may owe her an explanation as well, actually.”

“You?” Bernard asked. “What do you have to be sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I… er… I borrowed one of her books without permission. It just seemed like as long as everyone was apologizing, I should, too.”

Bernard laughed for the first time all day.

Dandy was sitting on top of his favorite hill, watching the sun set.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned.

Bernard was there, looking at his shoes. “Dandy, it was me. I got carried away; I told Audrey those lies; I lost you Maryweather. You have every right to shove me down this hill right now and call me whatever name you might think appropriate, but I can promise you that it won’t even come close to what I warrant. So go ahead; I’ve earned it.”

For the first time in his life, Dandy felt choked up. “Bernard, you have far more right to do the exact same thing to me. I don’t deserve Maryweather, I don’t deserve your apologies. I’ve been the most awful companion, the worst of dogs… I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.” He looked into the grass.

Bernard smiled. “Dandy, I wouldn’t trade you for any other dog in the world.”

Dandy looked up. “You mean that?”

“Of course.”

Dandy finally smiled as well. “Good, because I’d strangle you if you tried.”

Bernard gave Dandy his hand and helped him to his feet. “Since we both seem to agree that we deserve a shoving, how about we do it together?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea… beanie-boy.”

Dandy placed his hands on Bernard’s shoulders.

Bernard placed his hands on Dandy’s shoulders.

Together they pushed and tumbled backwards down the hill, finally rolling to a stop on opposite sides.

Tomorrow the sun would shine, the birds would sing, and nothing would really be any different from the day before. Because, no matter what happens, Dandy will always be Dandy, and generally at Bernard’s expense – that’s one thing that will never change. And as the full moon rose over the treetops, the air filled with the laughter of two best friends.

Author’s Note

Dandy Q. Dog, Bernard H. Brooks and all related characters are copyright Derrick Fish, 2003.

I hadn’t planned for this story to become as serious as it ended; in my mind it was supposed to be a lighthearted frolic of prank exchanges. After Bernard’s last fatal trick, however, I decided to take a look at a Dandy who quite suddenly realized his own major faults, and a Bernard who got carried away in his retaliatory plans.

Some may find Dandy and Bernard out of character in the final few bits of the story. I don’t intend to suggest that our favorite canine prankster should become a more somber and thoughtful character – that’s simply not part of his persona. Neither, for that, is Bernard becoming an inconsiderate jerk. But certain incidents can cause momentary lapses in permanent qualities – and it’s fun to see different sides of people.

Thanks to Chris Gammon for writing his first Dandy fan-fic, The Wrath of Cyber Dandy, alerting me to the possibility of my own Dandy story. Also, of course, thanks to Derrick Fish for producing one of the funniest and best-drawn comics on the web. Keep it up, Derrick!

And, finally, thanks to everyone who has supported my compulsive writing habits, including my parents and online friends who’ll take a peek at anything I write just for fun.

I don’t know about any future Dandy anecdotes, but there’s always a possibility. I certainly did have fun writing this one!

My e-mail is redfox742@yahoo.com and my IM is RedFox742. Please contact me if you have any questions or comments.

Until next time,

- Darren McRoy, “RedFox”, August 2003