DESHI DOG BUPU STAGES SEPIA MUTINY

By Sajjad “Stu” Rahman, Foreign Correspondent

Westland, MI.

Loyal readers of Joruri Khobor may recall that your humble correspondent was the first reporter to break news of Deshi Dogs, a Chicago area business importing Bangladeshi nationals for Americans unable to afford dogs or cats. A rarity in these days of economic despair, Deshi Dogs seemed an enterprise demonstrating the ingenuity of its founders, Johnny Talukder and Moushum “Moz” Mustakeen.

Showing the courage and forward-thinking entrepreneurship always distinguishing people of Subcontinental descent, Deshi Dogs appeared a genuine American success story—for what is more Baseball and Apple Pie than darkies in a mutually beneficial servitude to their White masters?

Alas, that fateful Dictum of Dhaka Life has proven universally true—no matter the social event or setting, there will always be one Bengali that ruins everything.

In a shocking twist of events, Bupu, the very first Deshi Dog sold, has staged a violent revolt against his American owners, injuring two people, killing seven chickens and causing at least $5000 (US) in property damage to cars.

Bupu’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Fastenblast, of Westland, Michigan, purchased their pet in August. “We didn’t have money for a dog, but Deshi Dogs said Bupu was almost as good as a poodle. He liked us from the get-go, always happy to chase a rubber ball whenever Mother threw it into the grass. But then he turned sour. Look at my arm. No dog would do this,” said Mr. Fastenblast, one of the two people injured by Bupu, as he displayed a series of seven bite marks smeared with feces and marinated with urine.

Mrs. Fastenblast, who was not injured in the attack, was unable to hold back her tears as she discussed Bupu. “He was like my brown, ugly child,” she said, holding photographs of happier times.

So, what happened?

Exact details remain hazy, but it appears that after half a year of captivity, Bupu remembered his in life in Bangladesh. Mr. Fastenblast says the trouble began when Bupu asked to be read the original Joruri Khobor article about Deshi Dogs. The description of the Deshi Dog known as “Kim Kardashian” sounded a disharmonious chord within Bupu, and when Mr. Fastenblast finished reading, he says that his Deshi Dog remained uncharacteristically silent for hours.

Finally, at midnight, Bupu accosted Mrs. Fastenblast. Although unable to recall his exact words, she says he said something akin to, “Alone, bad! Friend, good! Kim Kardashian. Like me. Woman…. Friend… Wife…”

“I didn’t know what he meant,” said Mrs. Fastenblast. “Usually when Bupu talked we didn’t pay any mind—mostly he asked if it was okay to defecate in the house. He never could understand that in America people don’t go number two on the carpet. ”

Mrs. Fastenblast went to sleep. The next morning, she woke to the screaming of her husband.

In his own words, Mr. Fastenblast says, “When I came down into the kitchen, every single wall and window was smeared with feces, and a big puddle of urine was on the kitchen table. Bupu was standing in the middle of it all, naked and drooling. He had a crazy look in his eye. I asked him what he was doing, but all he would say is “debir podochummone ami mogno.” I don’t understand that monkey talk, so I yelled at him to sit down. That’s when he came over and bit me. I’m not a young man. I fell over in pain. That’s when he held me down and wiped his behind on my wounds and urinated on me.”

Leaving Mr. Fastenblast in the kitchen, Bupu ran into the backyard where he attacked the family’s chicken coop, breaking the wings of nearly all the birds, and biting the heads off seven. His face streaming with avian blood, Bupu ran to the front yard where he encountered John Stoutly, a neighborhood mailman.

“As a postal worker,” says Stoutly, “I encounter a lot of hostile pets. You get good at calming animals down, but nothing prepared me for a blood smeared, shit-assed Bangladeshi peasant.”

Stoutly says Bupu pushed him to the ground and kicked him while screaming, “Free Party mayere bap, Communism khaape khap!” After beating Stoutly, Bupu picked up a stick and smashed the headlights and windshields of every car on the Fastenblast’s street, leaving behind a wake of broken glass and dented metal.

Bupu has been missing for five days. Authorities followed his trail but lost the path of human feces when it crisscrossed with a homeless encampment in nearby Detroit. When the owners of Deshi Dogs were contacted with the news of the escape and attack, they denied that Bupu had ever married Kim Kardashian. “Absolutely not,” said Mr. Mustakeen. “There is no connection between the two. We would never split a pair.”

Bupu’s whereabouts are the daily topic of conversation in the barbershops and beauty parlors of Westland—some people, including the Fastenblasts, believe that he is on his way to find Kim Kardashian. Others wonder how long a Bangladeshi can survive without White masters providing food and water. Many believe that Bupu has perished already, a victim of his own rebellious nature, like the figure of Satan in the poetry of John Milton.

Gentle reader, you may rest assured that whatever the fate of Bupu, Joruri Khobor and your humble correspondent will spare no resources in following the long, dark trail of human feces to its very end—or should we say beginning?