Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away...

So yesterday I got home from work, got out of my car and walked to my mailbox. Beside my neighbor's mailbox, I noticed, was a crazed looking dog, all wet and intense. Well, I'm a dog guy. I've got 3 of my own. I know that dogs wig out when you wig out, so I remained non-wigged and reached for my mail. However, I noticed that that movement pushed the dog into first a smile and then a snarl, then that weird rippling lip snarl that angry dogs like to do.

As I mentioned, I have my own dogs and although I know most dogs are fairly good intentioned, I also know that a scared/pissed dog is bad juju. Then I noticed that he had a friend. As luck would have it, his friend was pissed too. Some sort of bad mailbox history for those guys. Fight or flight kicked in. It's very misleading when they say fight or flight, because it leads one to think that maybe they be able to fly, which I wasn't, so I ran. My pal Yoshi and I will reenact this scene for your viewing pleasure.


So I huffed it out, jumping the fence into my yard. Now our fence has tines on top of it (Good Tines, ain't we lucky we got 'em) but I was not lucky because they ripped my hands to shreds and tore my favorite work pants. The gray ones? You know 'em? Well, they were cool.

And the dogs stood at the fence and barked and snarled. Scary.





Anyway, my neighbor shows up a little bit later and it turns out it was his dogs. I didn't recognize them because they were wet and crazed and I was attempting to keep feces inside my body. My wife recounted the story to him as I stood there with a stunned look. Anyway, he was unimpressed, saying he wasn't sure how they were getting out. I guess I should have told the story myself and used my bloody hands as emphasis.

The wife bandages my hands and then I'm off to the theatre.

So while at the theatre and doing a show, we're in a blackout and I'm laying on a couch. The two guys who I'm doing the scene with are jokesters and I can feel one of the tickling my hand in the dark. I flutter my hand to get them to stop but they're commited. So when the lights come up, there's a fucking cockroach on my hand. Not cool. Now I know my wife has an insane fear of this little creature so Jazz legend Max Roach and I will perform the reenactment instead.


Scary, right? What if he hits me with a drumstick? Ooh, but what if he has an ice cream Drumstick? You can see how I would be torn, right?

So the audience gasped and I tried to think of something witty to say but I had nothing. It was all I could do to continue the scene and not wig out. And I watched the little critter scurry away under the audience.

So apparently I'm some sort of poor man's Dr Doolittle now.

I wish I had a payoff to these stories but I don't. Sufficed to say, it's probably better not to stand close to me when animals are around for the next little while.