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It was an unusually cool summer day in Lake Woebegone, Alabama, so I decided to mow the back yard.
Joe Black was next door and I could hear the drunk beating up verbally on his wife again.
I smiled to myself at the sound of the 16" cast iron skillet meeting Joe's head.
Well, I cranked the mower and started to push through the back lawn that is so easy to ignore. You see, the back yard belongs to my one year old Labrador Retriever, Rose, and is privacy fenced for two reasons: To keep Rose in and to keep my lawn negligence hidden.
Now, if you have ever had a dog like Rose you know. She is the best friend a man can have and will do anything in the world her head can wrap around that will please you.
These things include digging various holes, foot sized, and just deep enough to break or at least sprain the typical human ankle. And, if you have ever had a dog this size, you know that they have a prodigious talent in the art of fertilizing lawns.
After two nice lines beside the fence, my foot hit a substance that made the surface of an ice rink seem like one of those nasty-ass flower appliques you can stick to the bottom of your tub to stop slips and falls. One foot went up, the other followed and my ass hit the ground like a sack of shit on a rainy day.
This, I shrugged off (mainly because I could still walk) and re-cranked the mower after seventeen tries. Now the mosquito's had declared my to be a natural buffet. I swatted and swatted, but there always seemed to be four encephalitic winged ones to take the place of the one I was lucky enough to hit.
BUT! I persevere!
Halfway through, feeling victorious, a German Shepherd, bursts through the open fence door with the biggest fucking set of balls and a hard on from hell. My heart jumped and I briefly wondered if the dog was going to rape me or eat me... Then the thought came: Oh Jesus Fucking Christ, SHE'S IN HEAT!
I did the only thing I could.
"Wat'sup, Dawg?"
"You git, now!"
I put the walk behind in high gear and moved toward him as my heart threatened to burst through my chest. Thankfully, he wagged his tale and left. I stood for a moment and returned to the mowing at hand when after seventeen steps, I found one of her holes.
Not a little one, the whole back end of the mower shot up in the air and I followed suit, my ankle beginning to flash out in pain that immediately put me in mind of major narcotics. The mower stopped and I breathed slowly and fastly and wanted to kill, maim or cry. I decided to moan and whine.
It's a quiet evening here. The fireflies are out and I can hear Joe moan from the house next door.
And yes, the dog is still alive.
:toast:
And to keep this in the spirit of GD, Scientology caused it all!
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