Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
23 November 2008
We all live in a Conspiracy Theory. Yellow Submarine. Conspiracy Theory.
So maybe it's just my imagination here. I was walking Team Small Dog down the street, by the big apartment complex across the street from the sea, on leashes, early in the morning, a block or so from Lighthouse Field, when down the street drives a Ranger. One I haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet in person. Sun just up and pretty glarey this early, shines bright over the giant ocean right behind me. In his overstuffed truck that they use now for driving around on the grass and making convenient new truck roads on the soft, meadowy grass. Looking for criminals. And he drives towards me, and slows down, and takes a big, long, drink of water of a looksie at me. Driving all slow.
He's sort of gray and oldish, cruising in that super mega Dodge truck. I'm sort of somewhat late to work looking. I would say, probably you would not drive by me and go, "Sakesy almighty, what a hottie." Wait. Would anyone say that? Or Snoop Dogg would not say, "Look here beeyatch you fine and I dig yo style." Maybe you would say, "Look at her messy unkempt hair and I bet she would like some more coffee for faster speedwalking in scuffy clogs and dirty jeans and what are those a bunch, of related chihuahuas? And she just tripped in her clogs? And who even wears clogs?"
So he's slowing down. Turns his head so we can look deep in each other's eyes. And I just flash a warm and winning smile. If you mean by warm and winning it can include perhaps showing a few more teeth than really need showing in a smile because my lips stretch sort of contortion like as we lock eyes for an instant. And then he just drives off and I keep walking on home. So I can go get a life.
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4 comments:
a) *I* wear clogs, and
b) EEK! Creepy! That's the kind of thing that would majorly creep me out. I mean, the ranger in the truck staring, not the clogs. Also,
c) Thanks for the ear worm. Not that I don't like "Yellow Submarine," and all, but....
Laura, I think would be paranoid, too. So, maybe it's not paranoid. Perhaps Vast State-Wing Conspiracy. Suggestion: walk dogs for awhile in company of certain local activist with vast experience dealing with intimidating agents of the state.
I don't even think it sounds so conspiracy-ish. If you're bored on your shift early am, and then you say to yourself, "Hey, isn't that the hotty enemy of state, I mean dogwalk chick, that I've been hearing about from Officer Peeper and the fellows at roll call?" well then of course you're going to bring drama into your life by pulling up alongside for the intense eye lock (maddogging, no pun intended), maybe with the Top Gun soundtrack blazing in your ears. If it has been a slow shift, then you might have provided Officer Grey a much-needed spark of adrenalin, dog lady enemy of state!
I like that, Ellen!
Dog Lady Enemy of State
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