The worry on his face. What's eatin' you, man? Is it that you can't drink the water because you're afraid bike grease got all up ins? Worrying's for chumps. You ... you don't want to be a chump, do you?
If you've ever wondered whether dogs are capable of experiencing the kind of deep, existential horror reserved for the last few paragraphs of a Lovecraft story, you can go ahead and lay that question to rest now. I bet after I took this picture, the whole dude was white from tail to tip.
"Yeah, how's it goin'. This? Leash. M'tied here. Don't mind. S'a nice day. What? Why's it all in knots? What, do I look like the Answer Dog to you? Get a damn job."
We've all had summers like this, haven't we, where one part just didn't get the right amount of sun for some reason, so at the very end we have to try and balance it out. Does it ever work? Ask this guy tomorrow.
I've got no words for this little professor here, just sittin' in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for the answers to come to him. I can respect the hell out of that.
Is Andrew Wyeth still alive? Has he ever done a painting called "The Insurmountable Obstacle"? Because I have an idea for him if he hasn't. I'm just talking here.