July 12th, 2004
|06:23 pm - Oh, the things you see|
Altercation at Summer & Lowell! Altercation at Summer & Lowell!
Lowridah van full of people who hate being honked at gets honked at by youts in a VW. People in lowridah van get out and surround VW and holler "DON'T YOU EVAH - EVAH - HONK AT ME AGAIN" at the youts, and the two sides cuss up a storm. So someone from a nearby house wanders out on the porch and hollers "HEY WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, THERE'S KIDS AROUND HERE" and the lowridah people start yelling at him instead, all the while the traffic backup is causing many more horns to honk.
Enter THE POLICEMAN DUN DUN DUNNNN who waves the lowridah kids back into their van and sends them on their way, then has words with the VW. The VW people seem not to be too happy that the policeman has not arrested all the lowridah kids and sent them back to Foreign Rico or wherever, and the policeman DUN DUN DUNNNN has to sternly look stern at them as they skulk off.
Finally the POLICEMAN DUN DUN DUNNNN turns to the guy up on the porch who was hollering at all the cussin, and he waves. A little kid runs down the steps and the POLICEMAN DUN DUN DUNNNNN scoops him up into his arms and gives him a big hug. They appear to be related.
HOW'S THAT FOR A TWIST ENDING? BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMING! STICK THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT, M. NIGHT "THEY CALL ME MR. GLASS" SHYAMALAN
There was a story I was writing before that whole hubbub happened. Abbie Rasputin Raskolnikov the Giant Russian Furry Blonk Of Die Katzen-Katzen went to the vet today and apart from that whole in-litterbox-for-15-minutes-at-a-time thing he checked out pretty well. The vet advised I take some samples of his, er, output, for testing purposes, and the next time I see him squatting away I'm to clean it up with a syringe and refrigerate the stuff until I can bring it over to the office. Oh that's gonna be a laugh and a half, I just know it.
Getting there was almost as traumatic as the ear inspection the poor beast had to endure. My ride fell through at the last minute so I scooped the cat carrier up into my arms and carried him down the hill. He hated that. Cars sped by us on the street. He cried a lot. When we finally got to the vet's I calmed him down in the waiting room and he seemed pretty sedate, even curling up next to me and giving me many reassuring headbonks. But when the vet walked in, he got all upset. Gave the vet more sass than he's ever given anyone before, but I think it was all just an act. When she scritched his ears, his eyes crinkled up and he put on the "it's good to be the king" face that he gets when he's scritched behind the ears, but he growled as well. I think he was saying something like "Yeah, I'm the king -- but I'm NOT A HAPPY KING!"
Anyway Rachel was kind enough to give us a ride home so we were spared another agonizing walk uphill, which was very helpful. Oh, by the way, did I mention that Mr. Built Like A Brick Litterbox now weighs eighteen and a half pounds? Someone's gonna need to go on a diet soon, I'm pretty sure.
But not me. Not right now. Right now, I fall over.
|Date:||July 12th, 2004 04:23 pm (UTC)|| |
Signs that the one-acts are getting to me:
M. NIGHT "THEY CALL ME MR. GLASS" SHYAMALAN
I read this and wondered how the script for "M. Night Shyamalan Buys A Loaf of Bread" would go.
Re: Signs that the one-acts are getting to me:
That's the one where at the end, you realize that it wasn't a loaf of bread all along... but a PRETZEL!
So, wait... This was a CoH story, right?
STICK THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT, M. NIGHT "THEY CALL ME MR. GLASS" SHYAMALAN
*wipes orange juice off the screen*
I little warning next time you're going to make me laugh that hard, thank you.
Abbie Rasputin Raskolnikov the Giant Russian Furry Blonk Of Die Katzen-Katzen
See, that's where I scared the whole office by bursting into manaical laughter.
(But only one of them got up and said "I'm going for coffee, do you want one?". I'm trying to get a proper pavlovian reaction - my hysteria = GET THE GIRL COFFEE, STAT! Needs more work.)
My cat Sheba was the worst at the vet. At home, she was just the biggest mush who would let anyone -- even a psycho killer from hell who just broke into the house and killed everyone -- pick her up and carry her around. Bring her to the vet and she became that cat from Pet Sematary, clinging to her carrier (we would shake it upside down and she wouldn't even let her tail out), growling, hissing, screaming... they had to get out the leather gloves, and she once bit through one of those and bit the poor vet tech's hand, breaking skin. But you'd get her back home after it was all over, and she'd just saunter out of the cat carrier and be fine. What a nutty cat.