21 Jan 2004 - from the Woodenhawk Circle archive.
Nanook here. Getting to know my neighbors has never been an activity I've relished. The banal chit-chat, the endless talk about the weather and what goes on at work - it's enough to make me want to shoot myself. All people have flaws, but my neighbor's flaws really stand out. After day-in, day-out exposure to these mind numbing shit-stains, I've begun to cringe and withdraw. At times, usually when I am most dejected by life, interacting with them and their stains feels like hot needles piercing my eyes. I am profoundly bothered by one particular trait of the people living beside me: their dogs.
They have Dachshunds. I relish thoughts of vaporizing them from my reality. For two years, and every day within those two years, these dogs have made their horrible presence known. They make it known at least five or six times a day. They leap from their small townhouse porch, baying and howling as if their tiny assholes were on fire. These little hell hounds bark so loudly neighbors three blocks over are torn from sleep. The barking is so bad I feel my blood pressure spike with each yipe and squeal. The reason they display such excitement can only be due to the 5 million more ethmoidal cells that are housed in their snouts. Surely they smell a cat's fresh steaming bowel movement or another equally appealing scent when they first sniff the winter air.
Nanook here. Getting to know my neighbors has never been an activity I've relished. The banal chit-chat, the endless talk about the weather and what goes on at work - it's enough to make me want to shoot myself. All people have flaws, but my neighbor's flaws really stand out. After day-in, day-out exposure to these mind numbing shit-stains, I've begun to cringe and withdraw. At times, usually when I am most dejected by life, interacting with them and their stains feels like hot needles piercing my eyes. I am profoundly bothered by one particular trait of the people living beside me: their dogs.
They have Dachshunds. I relish thoughts of vaporizing them from my reality. For two years, and every day within those two years, these dogs have made their horrible presence known. They make it known at least five or six times a day. They leap from their small townhouse porch, baying and howling as if their tiny assholes were on fire. These little hell hounds bark so loudly neighbors three blocks over are torn from sleep. The barking is so bad I feel my blood pressure spike with each yipe and squeal. The reason they display such excitement can only be due to the 5 million more ethmoidal cells that are housed in their snouts. Surely they smell a cat's fresh steaming bowel movement or another equally appealing scent when they first sniff the winter air.
I have fantasies of laying out large bear traps for them to land in as they leap from their porch. I watch as the traps clamp down hard upon their bodies, and their new pain and misery really gives them something to bark about. Perhaps a miniature dog pit with sharp stakes to pierce their little dachshund bodies. If only I were an inventor! I could make a remote control flame thrower that would truly convert them to the hot dogs they most resemble. Their assholes forever cauterized, they would never again squeeze another steaming pile onto my lawn again.
Instead, I am the usual nice guy. I converse with my neighbors about the weather and yawn through their excitement about their new pup (yes, another one). I politely ask them to remove heaping excrement piles from my yard because they haven't the common courtesy to do it themselves. I come and go with my dream of sick torture and wish I could share it with someone. Alas, I have the MRF. Thanks for reading.
- Nanook
1 comment:
HaHaHa! A Nanook classic! Sick man, sick. ~Ozone
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