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Ace Hart, taking his clothes off, after a hard day investigating and protecting Dog City.
Ace Hart © Jim Henson
Ace Hart © Jim Henson
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fanart
Species German Shepherd
Size 877 x 1240px
File Size 836.8 kB
I was dog tired. The day was spent being hounded by the local riff-raff, all biting for the opportunity to finally put me down for a dirt nap. I decided to take the night off. I probably lost all the water weight panting myself to near death over those yahoos. I'll tell ya: it gets the blood pumping, but even I know there can be such a thing as too much excitement.
Off went the jacket, hat, tie. Looked myself over in the mirror. Not bad, with my shirt collar undone. I could be quite the handsome son of a
Hey!
bitten mongrel. Shame Rosie wasn't around to see this. Shame I wasn't around to see her. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow -- assuming said tomorrow didn't sneak up on me like a would-be cat burglar in the night, wielding cans of tuna past their expiration date and bottles of... Where was I going with this? Anyway, there was always tomorrow. What a bittersweet promise in my line of work.
Ace, what are you doing?
In the privacy of my own home, I could afford a little vanity. Tossed that sweaty rag I usually called a dress shirt aside. I didn't cut a bad figure, if I say so myself. Real shame Rosie wasn't here to see this.
Good Dog, Ace. Are you stripping?
As I said, in the privacy of my own home, I could afford a little vanity. I know my rugged mug drew a lot of attention. Usually the kind that would see me whacked six ways from Sunday, chained to a sinking hydrant, given the ol' cement shoes, and every other deranged punishment those two-bit hoodlums could imagine. But, right now, I could appreciate myself.
Ace, this really isn't appropriate. This is a kid's show!
They got parents, don't they? And don't tell me I don't have admirers, Eliot. Except Rosie, of course. But I guess you're saving that for some climatic finale that would never come. Just like that promised tomorrow, left bittersweet when you realize it'll just be another day. But, in this moment, I have myself.
Ace, put your underwear back on!
You made me, Eliot. And, damn, I look good.
Off went the jacket, hat, tie. Looked myself over in the mirror. Not bad, with my shirt collar undone. I could be quite the handsome son of a
Hey!
bitten mongrel. Shame Rosie wasn't around to see this. Shame I wasn't around to see her. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow -- assuming said tomorrow didn't sneak up on me like a would-be cat burglar in the night, wielding cans of tuna past their expiration date and bottles of... Where was I going with this? Anyway, there was always tomorrow. What a bittersweet promise in my line of work.
Ace, what are you doing?
In the privacy of my own home, I could afford a little vanity. Tossed that sweaty rag I usually called a dress shirt aside. I didn't cut a bad figure, if I say so myself. Real shame Rosie wasn't here to see this.
Good Dog, Ace. Are you stripping?
As I said, in the privacy of my own home, I could afford a little vanity. I know my rugged mug drew a lot of attention. Usually the kind that would see me whacked six ways from Sunday, chained to a sinking hydrant, given the ol' cement shoes, and every other deranged punishment those two-bit hoodlums could imagine. But, right now, I could appreciate myself.
Ace, this really isn't appropriate. This is a kid's show!
They got parents, don't they? And don't tell me I don't have admirers, Eliot. Except Rosie, of course. But I guess you're saving that for some climatic finale that would never come. Just like that promised tomorrow, left bittersweet when you realize it'll just be another day. But, in this moment, I have myself.
Ace, put your underwear back on!
You made me, Eliot. And, damn, I look good.
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