6 November 2010

The Hammer's New Friend


The Hammer met yet another new dog tonight. Like a lot of dog owners this one was a little nervous seeing my big dog bound up to her little pooch. The pooch could have cared less however. Our dogs had a good old time chasing one another around through the psylocybic dusk until they fell on their bellies to rest a minute on the cold grass before starting up their game again.

As we watched our dogs have fun together our conversation turned to the neighbourhood. It is a good fucking neighbourhood. Good as any. My new friend looked towards the park's parking lot and said, "There sure do seem to be a lot of drug deals that go down there."

"Oh, fuck yes," I concurred. "Probably no more than every other parking lot in town though." When Sonja and I first moved to Steepleton it was squeaky clean as a nun's ass. Now our town is looked down upon by people from Sliverville to Winnipeg.

"And when I come down here with the dog at night there are always people smoking dope in the darkest corners of the park," she continued. "I wouldn't even know they were there if they did not cough so much."

"They're harmless," I assured her. It was true. There are pot smoking assholes everywhere you look. "Just be happy we don't have hookers sucking dick in our park like every other park in town," I suggested.

"Oooh," she said. "I never thought about that."

The Hammer came and gave the lady a big wet kiss to thank her for bringing her dog to the park to play. Her dog came up to me and rubbed her snotty nose on my leg to thank me for bringing my big shit eating dog to the park to play. It felt kind of Canadian, the four of us fucking around in the park like that, while all around us the world was going to Hell.

5 comments:

uniplmr1 said...

Psylocybic Dusk? Fuck me. I'm looking it up.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

The word psylocybic came to me, I looked it up, couldn't find it, but used it anyhow. Just before the first frost comes, which ought to be any day now, we are up to our armpits in mushrooms out here in the great fields of Canada. Then Christmas comes and we wash all that poison out of our system with booze before the mushrooms get brought back out for New Year's Eve and we skate where once we bent over.

uniplmr1 said...

I can't find it either. Congratulations, you invented a new word for a halucinatory event. I'm proud, fucking proud, to be involved. I met the coolest things behind fungi grown on cowshit.

Jon said...

It's a neologism. I more or less caught your drift.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Neologism is a fancy word for crazy man talk. I am getting your drift too Jon!