Cerberus the Castrating K-9
There is a daily ritual that plays out for me every day that I would not particularly miss if ever it were to cease to occur ever again. I have learned what is it to come close to the brink of castration each day, and I can sure fucking do without it!
Each day, after the ritual self-medicating and selecting of music to listen to on my CD Walkman, I set out on my 45 min walk to work in my normal oblivious state of stoned euphoria. That is, until I get to the corner of Russell Ave and Lake St that is.
At this particular juncture in my journey, my world comes imploding in on my liberal buzz like a neutron star, and I am stricken with a near myocardial fibrillation out of put shock and surprise. You see; here lives a dog that up until a few months ago loved me and always ventured out to greet me at the end of his leash tether as I passed by his home on the sidewalk.
I’m not sure what happened to him since then, but now this same, once friendly pooch, comes tear-assing out at me like a hound from hell as if he were trying to literally get at me to kill me.
This dog now, for some reason or other, has developed a complete “hate on” for us pedestrians, no matter how stoned and unassuming. Every day I fall for it: I walk along all unawares and minding my own business, and out of the corner of my eye off the porch comes Cerberus, baring down on me until his leash stops him only inches from the sidewalk where I would once stop to pet him.
It’s the same thing every day; in complete surprise, I square off to face my K-9 aggressor only to have his jaws snap like a triggered bear trap clanging shut just mere inches from my crotch, making my penis retract quickly back into my abdomen in fear like a prairie dog fleeting for cover from a swooping hawk.
Now I know how mailmen must feel. I sure wouldn't miss the near castration every day if I could only remember to walk on the other side of the street. Routine is a bitch to break from - no matter how unpleasant or unnerving it is.
Each day, after the ritual self-medicating and selecting of music to listen to on my CD Walkman, I set out on my 45 min walk to work in my normal oblivious state of stoned euphoria. That is, until I get to the corner of Russell Ave and Lake St that is.
At this particular juncture in my journey, my world comes imploding in on my liberal buzz like a neutron star, and I am stricken with a near myocardial fibrillation out of put shock and surprise. You see; here lives a dog that up until a few months ago loved me and always ventured out to greet me at the end of his leash tether as I passed by his home on the sidewalk.
I’m not sure what happened to him since then, but now this same, once friendly pooch, comes tear-assing out at me like a hound from hell as if he were trying to literally get at me to kill me.
This dog now, for some reason or other, has developed a complete “hate on” for us pedestrians, no matter how stoned and unassuming. Every day I fall for it: I walk along all unawares and minding my own business, and out of the corner of my eye off the porch comes Cerberus, baring down on me until his leash stops him only inches from the sidewalk where I would once stop to pet him.
It’s the same thing every day; in complete surprise, I square off to face my K-9 aggressor only to have his jaws snap like a triggered bear trap clanging shut just mere inches from my crotch, making my penis retract quickly back into my abdomen in fear like a prairie dog fleeting for cover from a swooping hawk.
Now I know how mailmen must feel. I sure wouldn't miss the near castration every day if I could only remember to walk on the other side of the street. Routine is a bitch to break from - no matter how unpleasant or unnerving it is.
posted by crazytigerrabbitman at
9:25 PM
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