Small Children and Household pets… don’t read the following unless you want to fully appreciate the possible insanity of a fully engaged, double-barrel madman.
Sorry for the F-bomb, but it’s been one of those days that makes ya
think about the life choices you are making.
Today started out like most, with a slight wine hangover and a feeling
of dred, followed by nine intense hours of putting up with the best
that human stupidity can throw at me. Needless to say, when I rolled
in the door at six tonight, I was already in a peachy mood.
Char and Clare went trick-or-treating with some friends of ours from
around the corner and I was left to tend the bowl (not that kind of
bowl… unfortunately). I spent nearly two hours handing out candy,
beginning to feel a little better about people in general.
Most, if not all, of the kids were good natured and having a good
time. Even the adults, some of which were no doubt at one time or
another involved in some less-than-stellar afterschool activity
(prison tattoos give away a -lot-), were all very friendly and I was
actually enjoying talking to people about stuff other than technology.
Then, Char called. The kids were going back out for trick-or-treating
on another block and I was invited to walk the couple of blocks over
to our friends’ place for some halloween festivities. Sounded good.
I killed the lights, blew out the pumpkins and went to grab my keys, a
beer, and my wallet. The door bell rang. I walked out to the
livingroom and as I passed the doorway between the diningroom and the
livingroom, there was an immense THUD and my damned front door swung
open.
What the fuck.
I guess it came out in a bit of a roar because the neighbors all came
to look to see what the fuck was going on. Of course, the fucking
hoodlums were gone and now, my solid wood door has a wonderful split
down the middle. I had to call the goddamn fuzz to file a report and
I’ll have to talk to some retard insurance sleezeball to get my door
fixed.
Needless to say… the Watson household will not be participating in
the Annual Free Candy Giveaway again anytime soon. I’m considering
printing up a pamplet titled “Why In The Fuck Doesn’t This House Have
Any Goddamned CANDY?!?!?!” and putting one of those little “sell yer
house” kiosks out front with a flashlight pointed down at it.
‘Course… that’ll prolly just get me egg’d.
Bunch of fucking retard savages in this fucking burg.
–bc
