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Nieghborhood Dogs and Monster Rods before/after Today I went out to blow the snow out of the driveway. When I got out into the frigid air I was greeted by the sight of a husky, rusty colored mutt regarding me with suspicion. I was downwind, so he didn't know what to make of me. We stood and looked at each other. Eventually I started to whistle and call to him. He whined and didn't know what to do. I realized that he was the neighbor's dog, and went into their yard. "C'mon boy! C'mon!" I said. And it was as if I could read his simple little mind. As I crossed into his yard, he loped after me, excited and happy. He bounded around me, and happiness just radiated from the creature. He ran and grabbed a stick, as if I would chase after him like a pack-mate, and try to take it. 'I've got a stick! Look, I've got a stick! Come and get it!' he looked out of his eye back at my non-chasing ass. He put the stick down. 'Okay, you don't like the stick. We can just chase each other! Yeah!' I walked up the neighbor's porch and knocked on the patio door. No one was home. So I went back to his doghouse and called him over. I struggled to get him leashed, but accomplished it, not wanting to see the kindly beast hit on the road, y'know? As I wrestled around with him, my hand went to the top of his head. He slunk his head and shoulders, closing his eyes, expecting to get hit. This means they beat their animal. I don't understand people who beat their animals. Or maybe I do, but I don't understand how they cannot see that the animal doesn't change much from day to day. Just their behavior changes. Their mood changes, and their issues make them angry with a creature that really doesn't know any better. And if it does, what difference does it make? He doesn't bark at me anymore, though. I think I have a new friend. In other news, I got an email that had the subject line saying: 'turn your rod into a monster'. I deleted it, as it simply does not sound pleasant for me, nor anyone involved with my "rod". The last thing I need, is a green mottled skinned horned goblin popping out when I unzip my pants. Thing like that would scare the hell out of me, let alone anyone presented with it. "Don't mind me, honey," I'd say with an evil chuckle ,"I got a little bit of a cold." And the gremlin would his and spit, and bite and scream. That would be the worst part: the screaming. Wouldn't be long before a thing like that could make a fellow unemployable. "Sorry, Mr. Argentum," my boss would say, "Your work is top-notch, but the incessant screaming coming from your pants frightens the secretaries and disturbs the board meetings. We have to let you go." And I would be propelled to a life of rejection and carnival side shows. "Step right up, folks, see the man with the monster rod! You heard me! Monster rod in the tent right herrreeee." the barker would say. And I would come out from behind the curtain to a smattering of applause, a keen interest in the minature sized curtain in front of my crotch. And the goblin would pop out from the minature curtain, hissing and pissing, screaming at the crowd, completely uncivilized and untenable in any conventional sense, eating through my trousers and keeping me awake at night. Until one day I luck into the sex industry, and my picture goes out over the internet for thousands of raging freaks to get their kicks with. Web cam shows every wednsday. Finally a home for my deformity, dammit I shouldna' never opened that email! Nope, can't have it.
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