Sunday, August 12, 2012 I'm not dead! But Brett Road does bring me a crippling sense of shame.
Heyyyyyyyy.
It's true - not dead. Just really, really busy.
Okay. Well, pretty busy and decently lazy. I moved and unpacked and traveled and worked and did a bunch of philanthropic shit.
It's coming together nicely, don't you think? [This is my apartment, not a philanthropic endeavor. To be clear.]
She's not impressed with my excuses, either.
In reward for your patience, I'll be sharing a story today. And it's a gem.
I used to live in a nice suburban neighborhood, around which I would walk my shitty, disobedient little dog.
Lucy loves people, especially little kids. If I had to choose her loves, order by most loved, it would go: food, other dogs, little kids, people, carpet. She really likes carpet.
As we walked down a street in my neighborhood, a little boy of about 5 asked if he could pet Lucy. I said yes, and held her harness so she wouldn't jump on him. She was still a puppy at the time and tended to get a little over-excited. They had a dog of their own, a Shiba Inu, that was putting Lu's spastic antics to shame by lying quietly on their porch.
So the little boy is petting Lu and all is well and his father came out of the house and we started to chat, so I stood up and began talking with him. The boy began playing in the yard and Lu went back to being an a-hole and yanking around on her lead. A quaint suburban scene.
And then shit went down.
In the span of about 4 seconds, this happened: the little boy ran over to his father (from the upper right of the yard to the lower left), which caused their dog to stand up and run across the front of the house, right to left. Which made Lucy run to the end of her lead and then follow the dog, right to left. I imagine it looked something like this (if that blue line was Lu's leash and I were an Asian woman in outdated khakis and the world no longer subscribed to proportions):
The fact that the red line is bisecting the kid's neck is not an accident.
[PS - I know you'd never guess, but I MADE THAT PICTURE. Well, from other people's pictures. I'm so creative.]
In slow motion, I can see that this kid is about to get seriously clotheslined by my dog. Rather than choke him out, I decide to bring my hand up and attempt to get the leash over his head.
You know what you get when you're moving your hand upward while it's being pulled quickly to the left and a little kid gets in the way? You get to upper-cut a five-year old in the friggin' jaw.
Turns out, little kids actually don't like to be punched in the face by strangers. Who would have guessed?
Thank god his Dad was standing there and wasn't a total dick. Can you imagine if you came out of your house and there was a random lady and her a-hole dog in your yard and your five-year old was sobbing and holding his face while she stammered apologies over and over? Oh, no? I can.
Moral of the story: If you ever want the simple act of walking down a particular street to bring you an overwhelming sense of shame and embarassment, just choose a resident under the age of 10 and clock them in the head. As other bloggers are wont to say, "easy-peasy."
PS - even typing "easy-peasy" made me want to throw up.
stories in general musings
Reader Comments (2)
Wait. I'm confused. Kids DON'T like being punched in the face?
(Nice to have you back.)
Hilarious and well-written!
If you can make this jaded, burned-out-blog reader laugh, then hell, it MUST be funny! Found you on Foodie Blogroll, btw.
Katya