a) The person whose job it is to fetch back the wilted lavender blossoms out of 5-star brothel bathrooms. (A much coveted position; highly saught after for the hazard-pay and prestige.)

b) The stick David Banner uses to get back his enlarged shorts while he's hiding in the bushes after transforming from a hard day's Incredible Hulking. ('Cause those stretched-out purple pants obviously fall off when he reverts back to human, right??)

"Roxy, c'mere." I said in a soothing voice, hoping to coax her in.

I realized my trick was not working as she laid down on the fuzzy mat ouside of the bathtub, knowing I couldn't pick her up.

"Who is a good girl?! Roxy is!!" I said as excitedly as I could.

Her tail started wagging, but she didn't budge.

"Hmph." I couldn't sit in this stalemate foever, so I went to go get a treat from the counter.

"Ok. Do you want a treat?" I motioned toward the bathtub and she quickly hopped in.

She knew what she was doing-- she played the game well.

"Alright," I said as she chewed down on the treat, "Roxy is gonna be a good girl, right?"

She seemed comfortable enough. That is, until I turned the water on. She tried to make her great escape by making a quick jolt to the right then left, like a soccer player doing a fakeout, squeezing her body between my arm and the wall.

She wasn't gonna get away that easily. I softly pushed her back into the tub.

I made her sit, turned on the water, and squeezed the soap into my hands. Apparently, this one was made especially for dogs, but it smelt really weird.

I started lathering it into her fur when the burning finally hit my nose.... this stench was worse than the wet dog standing before me.

"Ugh" I complained. I had to finish this, so I would be done with chores for the day and could relax.

I had to sit in there for a few minutes so that the dander treatment would fully set in.

I gave up waiting.

"Whatever" I said. I rinsed her off and turned off the faucet. I stepped back, hoping she woun't shake.

Well, the wish definetly didn't come true because in the next second she jumped out of the tub and doused the tiled-floor with water and dog fur.

I picked up the towel sitting on the toilet, finishing the job of drying her off.

As I dried, I noticed that the color of her fur was a little off. In fact, it started deepening its shade. I blinked, hoping that my dog wasn't turning purple as I had imagined.

"Mooommm" I called out, worried.

She opened the bathroom door and gasped.

"Hey look," I said, trying to lighten the mood, and possibly get out of being punished, "It's a lavender retreiver."