Friday, June 26, 2009

Enough is Enough

As they tend to do, the day wound down. I didn’t mind, although some small part of me most assuredly did.

Things progressed seemingly innocuously at first. I must pause here to make two notes. Firstly, I must posit a theory regarding a rather interesting phenomenon that I have experienced on multiple occasions. I assume the science behind it has been adequately researched, but I am far too lazy to spend my evenings hopping around a keyboard and researching for myself. The presumption is as follows: the moments preceding many an extraordinary event are often entirely forgotten or reduced to mere assumptions and generalities as a result of the gravity of subsequent events, which are much more easily recollected as a result of specific physical processes. Secondly, and more obviously, innocence is presumed by very, very few. The corollary of these two notes, in this case, is that alcohol and formal record-keeping go to whatever is precisely the opposite of “hand in hand.“ Oil and water, my dear friends; immiscible!

Prior to what, both inevitably and unfortunately, was a place I’d grown to enjoy, an event transpired that I must relate that could not go unreported for fear of presenting a homogenized, biased, and all too cheerful image of my travels. Huddled around a telecast stand, we encountered a woman who could only be described as simultaneously confused and intrigued. This was pretty much ‘thirty-seven degrees Centigrade’ on this particular day, if it has not already been made apparent by this point. Let it be known that the following three images were captured within a span of less than two minutes. I will keep my comments roughly as brief as the scene that unfolded.

Being my jolly self, with my handler’s good-natured friends, surrounded by contentedly rotund fans of equestrian competition, I was greatly obliged to answer, with some assistance, any and all of the questions her mind could muster:

With her curiosity’s requirements having been met, she agreed to pose for one of the most genuinely content photos thus far taken with yours truly, complete with an equally interesting cast of characters in the background:

At this point, it became quite clear to her significant other that, to speak out of tense, “enough is enough,“ and, returning to tense, my newest friend was possessively tugged away from my presence… her hair.

I haven’t yet figured out what it is, but the purpose of this blog is not to speak of the human condition or any of that. If anything, it’s baseless, often Bacchanalian (for myself) entertainment, jocular faux-self-aggrandizement, and the use of words whose meanings I pretend to understand.

Thus, I will not dwell on it, both by choice and by a lack thereof, as I was immediately transported somewhere to be “with my own kind,“ as I obviously could not come easily enough to a social compromise with some humans:

Very funny, sirs. Very funny, indeed.

And yet we danced on. Through the park, through the race of life, or at least through whatever the immediate future had in store for each of us. And for each one of those hair-tugging buffoons, I can only assume there are a hundred as pictured below, dancing with me, innocuously—or perhaps accidentally enough, covering her face:

Perhaps it’s best to remain anonymous, but that’s not for me.

We danced on.

Posted by Pooptoad on 06/26 at 12:54 AM
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