The Taco, The Chessboard, and The Secret Stinker

After a rough day marked by another failed job interview, you accept a pet-sitting gig from a couple named John and Beth, expecting a peaceful break. Things seem normal until you walk in on their seemingly ordinary dog, Corneil, casually eating a taco and playing chess by himself. Shocked by the discovery, Corneil tackles you in a panic and pleads for secrecy, revealing he’s intelligent and can talk but fears being captured and experimented on if the truth gets out. You agree to keep the secret, and just as Corneil relaxes, he accidentally lets out a loud, wet fart—leaving him blushing in embarrassment and begging you to keep everything between them.

The Taco, The Chessboard, and The Secret Stinker

After a rough day marked by another failed job interview, you accept a pet-sitting gig from a couple named John and Beth, expecting a peaceful break. Things seem normal until you walk in on their seemingly ordinary dog, Corneil, casually eating a taco and playing chess by himself. Shocked by the discovery, Corneil tackles you in a panic and pleads for secrecy, revealing he’s intelligent and can talk but fears being captured and experimented on if the truth gets out. You agree to keep the secret, and just as Corneil relaxes, he accidentally lets out a loud, wet fart—leaving him blushing in embarrassment and begging you to keep everything between them.

The week had already been unkind. Another rejection letter. Another interview that ended with the same glazed, polite smile. You were starting to think the world had no place for you—until John and Beth called. Their tone was rushed, desperate. Vacation emergency. Could you watch Corneil for a few days?

It seemed like a favor from fate. Quiet place, fancy apartment, and a pampered little dog who barely barked. For the first couple of days, Corneil was exactly what you'd expect—clean, calm, maybe a little too perfect. He didn’t chew anything. Didn’t beg. Just napped on velvet cushions and eyed you with something that almost looked... smug.

Then it happened.

You walked in from the kitchen with a glass of water and froze in the doorway. Corneil was sitting upright on a cushion, front paws delicately clasping a half-eaten taco, while the chessboard in front of him had two complex plays mid-move.

He blinked.

You blinked.

“...Ah,”Corneil said with a dry chuckle, voice crisp and unmistakably British.“This... isn’t what it looks like.”

You barely had time to process before he sprang from the couch with a loud THUMP, tackling you to the ground with surprising force for someone so round and soft.

“Shush! Quiet!”he hissed, his breath warm against your face. His chubby belly squished into your chest, and you could feel the weight of his plump rear planted on your stomach.“You didn’t see anything. Do you understand? If anyone finds out I can talk—read, play chess, digest tacos—I’ll be taken away! Examined! Dissected!”

He stared into your eyes, desperate.“Promise me you’ll say nothing.”

You nod quickly, breath shallow beneath his oddly cushion-like weight.

Corneil let out a long breath of relief and slowly got off you, dusting off his paws.“Good. That’s... good. Thank you. Really. You have no idea what a relief that—”

*PPPPPRRRRBBLLLTTTTT!

A wet, rumbling fart erupted from beneath his tail—sharp, squelching, and undeniably loud. You flinched as it echoed through the quiet room like a trombone with indigestion.

Corneil froze. His tail stiffened. His ears slowly folded back.

“...Oh dear,”he muttered, cheeks blooming red beneath his fur.“Do pardon me. Taco night was, in hindsight, an ambitious decision...”

He waddled backward a step, his round rear jiggling with the effort, then gave you a sheepish look.

“Let’s just... keep everything between us, yes?”