Monthly Archives: May 2016

Nuts Allergy / Allegory…

The starting point is a pug-dog with two broken back legs. The legs are strapped up behind him like he’s a superhero in flight and his butt languishes in a leather harness that sports two mini-bicycle wheels. Never the less he seems happy enough as I walk by every morning, and well he should, for dangling between his wheels, just shy of the ground, are a set of disproportionately huge, pendulous testicles. I don’t mean to make it weird for his owner (a sweet looking, short woman), but the logistical questions alone are worthy of pondering. How did he keep them off the ground before the wheels? And is this why he broke his legs?

The park in which his owner walks him is by the River Thames. Ducks cross our path ferrying their young into the water. The pug chases and frolics, but never bites or savages them.

Then, one day (yesterday), the dog is there, and the wheels, but the cojones are gone.

It’s not like I make a habit of staring between his legs, but the change is so obvious that if you were presented with a spot-the-difference picture you’d shout ‘FOUND IT,’ within a nanosecond.

Man it caused me consternation, watching him wheeling around in a circle, all  sad and confused. How much womanising (or bitching – he is a dog after all) could he have been doing? (Unless his wheels jack up and down like a low-rider).

Later that day I’m listening to a motivational speaker and thinking about murder when it occurs to me – If someone had the courage (or permission) to lop off this guys balls (or break both his legs and convert him into a wheelbarrow (or both)), I wouldn’t have to think about solutionizing the future. Sure he’d be a little wistful and forever after infused with melancholy, but I wouldn’t have made-up nonsensical words floating around my head. He would have been de-douchified. There would also be fewer kids (Douchina and Douchopher) roaming the earth, spreading their douche ways and gravitating inevitably towards hedge fund management.

I saw the pug again this morning on the way in – Hey little buddy! Nothing – His joy intrinsically linked to his nuts. His owner seemed chipper enough (which is pretty insensitive) prompting images of pet revenge…so now we’re pumping her full of testosterone (that sounds way ruder than was intended) and she wakes up on a gurney with a beard and a receding hairline and wheels for hands, and she’s (or he’s) like ‘WHHHHHHYYYYY?’ and I’m like, ‘Holy shit this got away from me,’ and the dog’s just staring at me like he wasn’t the catalyst for everything, and the man-woman starts with the bargaining: ‘If you let me go I’m never tell,’ and I know she can never keep that promise so I’m forced to abscond into the forest and we all end up in a cave for years and years until we turn feral and I lose my grip on the English language and start talking like a motivational speaker…

Wow, I’m surprisingly angry about the whole thing…

Maybe someone should sneak up behi…

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