The observant among you will have noticed that I did not post Friday. I can explain: the dog ate my homework. Wait! I am the... oh, crap...Actually, my reasons have to do with yesterday's state of high fuzzy-headedness. Thursday evening, whilst I was partaking of a postprandial aperitif, (often a blissful moment) the trouble began. Somewhere not unadjacent to the 'ol coyote den, a car with its antitheft alarum's sensors cranked to the max began to honk wildly at the transit of every squirrel - nay, every falling leaf. You know how many leafs are fallin' right now. It sounded like a freight train. Or a Buick.
I assumed some ass had parked and gone off to carouse on Elgin Street, and that all would be well in a few excruciating hours.
Wrong. All night, that horn fired off every five minutes. I then assumed that perhaps said ass had over-imbibed and taxied home. Still an ass, yet at least not endangering the public. But a quick stroll at eight-AM-ish Friday morning pinpointed the offending automobile - indeed a big honkin' new Buick - in a nearby residential driveway.
I contemplated this hyperactive excretion with an austere red eye. Well, two. As I did, a guy with an air of Steve Dallas about him stepped blithely from the porch with his Eddie Bean Insulated Travel Mug, Giant Squid Edition®, blipped the remote, climbed in, started up, and drove off.
I am grateful to Woodsy and Pandora for their thoughtful attempts to caffeinate my sleepless condition at a popular bean juice joint, later that day. They were well-intentioned and well-received.
Yet, maybe it's Seasonal Affective Disorder kicking in, but my ill humour remains. Steve: You are the lucky winner of coyote's Pre-Posthumous Urban T**t Zeitgeist (PPUTZ) Award. This means that I am bending my not-inconsiderable semimythical, totemic telekinetic powers to focus the universe's karma upon you. Kinda like a big psychic magnifying glass aiming the sun at your brain. Soon, your head will explode. All over your brand-new Buick's upholstery, I hope. Fair is fair.
