You might think dogs are the thing kids love most. Well, you'd be wrong. The thing kids love most are dogs that can grant magic wishes with their barks! Just think, all the times you were disturbed by the barking of every neighborhood mutt hollering at squirrels or strange cars or weird looking clouds, what if all those barks were granting magic wishes for some lucky boy? Don't take our word for it, examine this irrefutable piece of documentary evidence, and then judge for yourself.

Hold tight to that broom as all Hades prepares to break loose! We'd say "Hell," but this is a Code-approved comic. Which is also why this witch is riding sidesaddle.

Joe Dobbs and Pinky, living that bucolic country hay-pile-lounging lifestyle, in fear of their bucolic country neighbors.

Hey, every time Joe goes to town, you gotta stop kicking Joe's dog around. it makes no difference if he is a hound, you gotta stop kicking Joe's dog around! Also Joe's face, stop beating that in, as well.

If that situation with Fats and Rex wasn't bad enough, now Joe's Dad has to contend with what appear to be rural farmland gangsters working some sort of rustic agricultural protection racket. Sure, try to threaten the crankiest, most heavily armed group of people in America, people with threshers and chippers and lots and lots of empty land in which to dispose of nosy strangers. Doesn't seem to be a good way to live to a ripe old gangster age, but what do I know.

Get real, kid, Pinky would just get stepped on. Now go get the shotgun, which I assume you have, if you're farmers.

They'll be back, and the house is a mess, the lawn needs mowing, we're all out of snacks, and I can't even remember the last time I cleaned the grill!

This is a hell of a way to get to a Kenny Rogers song, but you gotta do what you gotta do, I guess.

Powerless without their brooms, the witches of America are increasingly finding themselves stranded in our overloaded treetops.

Pinky's a natural at riding broomsticks, but he's forgotten the most important rule - no hitchhikers!

Magic bark can grant any wish- and also cure malaria! Make canoes! Plywood! Cork! Cinnamon! This has been a public service announcement from the National Bark Council. Enjoy bark today, won't you?

Yup, lots of fire hydrants out on the farm. Rural life, known for robust public services. And gangsters.

The joke here is that he really had to pee. That's the joke.

Look, comic, don't shove an incongruous fire hydrant in our face, and then two panels later get all "gee I wish we could put out this fire" on us. It don't work like that!

Uh oh, looks like young Joe is mistaking correlation for causation. This can only lead to epistemological hilarity!

IMPALED ON A LIGHTNING ROD, is what the tabloid headline will read

That is absolutely not what dairy cow horns look like, but whatever, go chase those hoods, chase them back to their rural pool hall and their country candy store bookie fronts and their feed & seed store numbers rackets.

Why not wish for the treasure chest to be right there at your feet so you don't have to strain yourself hauling it up sixty feet? Think Joe, think!

Tell us you don't have any dog photo references without actually saying you don't have any dog photo references.

Zowie! The treasure I pulled up from our well, which we use for drinking water, even though whatever municipality this farm is located in provides infrastructure for fire hydrants! You know, sometimes I think this story about witches granting magic barks to friendly dogs lacks a certain internal consistency.

Wow, you're immensely wealthy! Now comes the fun part of explaining why you're violating the Gold Reserve Act of 1934. Come along and watch, Pinky, it's gonna be terrific!

Hey Joe, once he comes out and starts fighting, your whole thesis is invalidated! THINK, Joe!

I can't tell if Fats is issuing a threat or delivering a seductive come-on line! Drink me up, Fats. Drink me up.

Evidently, Joe wished for a Hanna-Barbera cartoon to suddenly erupt

Run, Rex! Run until your little bulldog nose can't deliver air fast enough and you're snorting like a little piggy! So cute.

Honest kids, I am a wizard, tingling with dark forces beyond our mortal understanding, positive that embracing the mystical arts will have the firm support of my rural hayseed bible-thumping community known for its tolerance and open-mindnedness.

Want to see them prove it? Want to see them come up with skatey-eight ways to end this story that don't just leave things hanging? Well, keep waiting, because that's all they got. That, and a dog that's been doing some push-ups.

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