Friday, February 04, 2005

Let Dead Dogs Lie

Ok, now we're back on line.

Been seeing a few more black eyes in my blessed rurality. Even count; coupla bashed Euro hued ladies, a couple more Siberian peeps. I've also had a significant increase in police visits, up and down Northstar Street, including my own porch. Apparently I wasn't very polite to the neighbor kids. Shame.

We all have fond memories of chastising old farts when we were kids. Pranks, tricks, random vandalism: all fair game. Reason we're alive today? We avoided pissing off the really mean old fucks. NS cops advised me not to let vicious dogs loose on vicious children. Fuck me in the goat ass.

It is a riot to see tough punks run screaming. Goddamn negro 'hood' garb gets snagged on everything, felony flyers (Nike tennis shoes) slipping and splitting on ice. All I did was walk up; leash the dog, and thorax punt a few whiners. What crime is that? I maintained composure, Mr. Sorrel the foot puppet misbehaved, thus explaining my constabulary (bacon bit, piglet, cop) visit.

Well gents, a familiar pattern has arisen. I have another dog lying frozen out at the dump.

Damn! How many does that make?

Nolton ballistically re-arranged a $500.00 red nosed American pit bull a few hours after the owner fed his own hand to it. Must be 6 dogs that have subsequently become seagull ass paint. All owned by the author, all smoked by his disturbed friends drawing policy enforcement pay.

Speaking of spectacular shots. One afternoon, dispatch jingled. Yeah, dreadful feeling when dispatch "jingles." Midol advised me that Columbo was downstairs, some Gumby replicated command to assist in a vicious dog complaint. So who elected me Cecil the Terminator?

No shit, vicious dog indeed. North Tent city, the fresh air, clusters of barrels filled to the brim with sun brining brown trout: God loves us, that's why he sent us here to sniff Eskimo discharge, wrestle in the mud, and eat shit. CIA remember? Christians In Action.

This dog was a piece of work; chasing kids, moms, leg nipping and snapping at their faces, connecting too. Columbo, Nasruk and I ran our dumb asses off playing catch and release with that shitty mongrel. Yer laughing, fuck you. You assholes go play catch the greased pig in shit, with North Tent City as the playground. No shit, lots of shit. Yes, fellow fossils, another muke soaked uniform shift. God loves us, don't forget it.

We cornered the BMIQ (bitch mutt in question) and almost had a solid hold on it, but it did a fake left, sneaked right, and got passed us. What God communicated to poop covered KPD trash must've been a divine message, simultaneously received by us, the smelly chaps. "Canus Familiarus is challenging you dipshit monkeys to a game of chase the bullet."

Being the dumbest of the bunch, I interpreted for all of us and yelled what God whispered. "Shoot the motherfucker!" Columbo assessed the situation, gave the all clear, and what we saw next is pert near Westlake level shooting.

As this BMIQ ran full speed in front of us, out of reach, back towards the crowd at tent city, this rookie fucking cop does a quicker'n shit draw, target acquisition, and trigger pull.

Faster than a speeding municipal Chevrolet with a dimpled door, this 2nd generation cop smokes a 38 through the neck of this galloping canine.

No journalistic overkill licensed here. Super quick-draw, one shot, dog dropped dead in its tracks, re-holster. Gentlemen, I don’t care where yer born, take yer hat off and buy the man a drink. You can find this shooter in Delta.

There’s a new sheriff in town, names Nay, Nasruk Nay.

You gents have a pleasant day. I’m going to the NS Vet Clinic, bring some smokes to the uniformed comrade, and adopt another meaner’n shit dog.

Karl.


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