Saturday, August 08, 2009

I Almost Stepped in a Poodle...

So, whatta you do when you have to take your dog out to shit and there's a fucking thunderstorm raging outside?

Fuck if I know, I'm asking you.

Well, I didn't want the Grovester to drop a steaming deuce in the house, so I grabbed the umbrella and out we went. There's was actually a momentary break in the downpour, so I figured we could get in a quick trot around the block, he could pinch off a dugan, and we could get back home without getting drenched.

Yeah, right.

We got about halfway around the block and the fucking sky opened up like god's sphincter and just doused us with his holy ass water. The umbrella was fucking worthless. I figured if I could just get the dog to the little strip of grass in front of the big fancy house where I always get him to dump, we'd be able to book home and not be completely douched.

So, just as we get there and Grover is squatting down to lay some puppy pipe, a fucking elephant-sized ball of white-hot, blinding lightning exploded, literally, like a sac hair away from my face. I swear to shit, I thought I was dead. I not only pissed my pants, I pissed Grover's pants, too.

The dog's asshole slammed shut like a snapping turtle on a pinkie toe and he fucking bolted down the street, dragging me behind him. We started racing toward home like the two of the Three Stooges being chased by a gorilla (I was Moe and Grover was... let's say Shemp). We got about halfway down the block and I had to stop -- I had a fucking cramp and I didn't care if I was gonna get zapped. I couldn't run anymore.

(And by the way, thanks for nothin', swimming. I think I'm in shape from all these fucking laps I do and then I run half a block and almost pass out. Stupid water.)

Anywhich, we finally made it home without getting kilted and we went inside. Of course, now Grover was soaked and he smelled like a pile of inside-out rectums wrapped in asparagus-pee-soaked wool,army-surplus blankets. But he wasn't dead, so that was a bonus.

And there you go -- we made it a whole week and the dog's still alive. Pretty excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a dog to clean.

They can go in the washing machine, right?


Susan Sink said...

how come you didn't get a dog sooner? the scatalogical possibilities are seemingly endless! :)

crabbydad said...

I had to wait until I exhausted all the spawnages' poopsibilities, Susan!

queen lisa of montreal said...

Although grilled crab is most excellent, I'm very happy that you weren't fried like green tomatoes. :-) Vive le Crabbydad!