|"Dude, help me find my contact. |
My mum's gonna kill me."
Ahistorical - you think this shit just
Dropped right out of the sky
My analysis: it's time to harvest
The crust from your eyes
To surge and refine, to rage and define ourselves
Against your line
So sorry friend but you must resign
You want to figure it out we'll throw down
We'll throw down, we'll throw down
You want to figure it out
We'll throw down your bulldog front
I received a terrible shock one night last week, upon returning home from work. I heaved open the front door late one night, pleasantly exhausted from an eight-hour workday and an hour-long meeting. I was humming along with Mr. Reznor (my iPod) and had just dumped my bags on the floor - I would need both my hands to survive the onslaught of love my three little gits were about to bestow on me when I opened my bedroom door and set them free.
“Yoo Hoo!” I sang. “Mummy’s home!”
I opened my bedroom door and flicked on the overhead light, then screamed in terror and took a giant step back.
“My babies!” I cried, then ran to my dogs, each of whom sat in different areas of my room, their heads hanging low and their tails tucked between their legs. “What happened? Who did this to you?”
I picked Misha up off the floor and cuddled her to my chest. She tried to pull away, refusing to even look at me; the other two tried to slink off and hide. The mistreatment they had suffered was written all over their fuzzy little faces.
The groomers, I realized suddenly. They did this.
“Bastards!” I fumed as I put Misha back onto the bed and stood up to collect my purse and keys. They wouldn’t get away with this. NOBODY abuses my dogs! I’d sue! I’d fucking sue them so hard they’d -
“Don’t they look adorable?” My mum cooed from the open doorway. “So cute!”
I spun around and gaped at her. “You...you let this happen to them?” I demanded.
“What?” Mum frowned as I pushed past her. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? Look at them!” I yelled. “I won’t let them get away with this!”
“Kage!” Mum cried, tripping over the dogs as she tried in vain to follow me down the hall.
I stopped and turned around. “Are you blind, woman?” I said incredulously. “Can you not see the blatant abuse?”
“No,” Mum shook her head, bewildered.
“The. Bandanas,” I hissed, and slammed the front door behind me.
Someone was going to pay.
|Christ, just look at 'em. |
I hope I don't have to euthanize them.