Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Dogs 280-286

"You were going to sit here, huh. No, see, yeah -- about that. I've -- this isn't really free, this bench here. People are coming. People. As in more than one. You should just find someplace else to sit. That's my advice to you right now."

In direct contrast to Scowly McBeaglington up there, we've got ... this guy. Someone needs to manufacture a line of t-shirts or trucker caps for dogs that say JUST HAPPY TO BE HERE! Because that's what is required.

He did something with that skateboard. He went somewhere he wasn't supposed to. There are bars in this town you don't visit, girls you don't talk to, crowds you don't mingle with. And there are places you do not visit on your skateboard. He knows now. That look? He knows.

If you ever want to get within hailing distance of horror -- and I'm talking about real horror here, like what you might experience in your mind while watching someone you love get turned inside out by a monster from another dimension with claws for eyes and seven different kinds of halitosis -- just go have a talk with this dude right here. I think that particular brand of horror just signed a ten-year lease on the inside of his head and moved all its stuff in right away.

I'm not even sure I can technically include this picture, because I am 99.998% positive now that I took a picture of a cow that had been somehow miniaturized through the application of science.

This particular juxtaposition produced a kind of probability cloud of jokes that I couldn't find my way out of. It was like the dense fog that sometimes rolls into the SF Bay, but without the foghorn to let me know where land was. I am sorry about this.

This master and commander is completely ready to carry all the groceries. I'm pretty sure he thinks he'll just put them on his back and trot off at a brisk clip down the sidewalk, bags rustling serenely. I don't know that I'd want to be the one to break it to him that he's the size of a basketball.