Emilio’s babysitter Emily told me this story last week and my love for the universe compels me to pass it on:Her roommate’s sister was house-sitting for someone in Washington, D.C. and came back to the house one afternoon to find that the family’s dog had died.
When she called the vet, she was told that she would have to bring the dog into the clinic if she wanted to find out why it had died so suddenly. Not having a car, she had no recourse but to put the 50-pound dog into her suitcase, which she then took with her to the subway.
On the subway, a man who had noticed how heavy the suitcase was asked her what she was carrying in it. Not wanting to reveal the suitcase’s real contents, she said the first thing that popped into her head: “my stereo.”
Thereupon, the man punched her in the stomach, grabbed the suitcase and ran away.
The end.
5 comments:
What a lovely story. Would that I could have seen the man's face when he got to the fence and discovered his stolen booty.
I was carying my 1956 Singer sewing machine in my arms in front of the DC Union Station while waiting for a bus to take me home. A dear lady offered me her nice cloth bag to cover it with so no one would try to steal it. I smiled, thanked her and explained that if anyone tried to take it from me, I planned to drop it on their foot. (It weighs an awful lot and is very compact)
Reminds me of the theory that there is a lot of truth in comedy.
Along with myth smashing, book burning, censoring, mind control, mind space, commercialism of emotions (sex, beauty, appeal, ones self perception, I suspect that the notion that any one of us thinks he has any individualism is totally absurd. Por ejemplo: when I was writing this I consciously and probably unconsciously thought my way through it to word it in a way that would be acceptable to most who might get this far. Even I as a well known Rebel, looked in the dictionary twice to check my speling. Now that in itself is not a big deal and maybe one should clean up his act (I've consciously considered saying, his or her) and march with the hordes of great masses of automatons who march lockstep across the endless plains of boredom... But,,,,I can't do it. Folkways, mores and laws generally reflect the local and regional cultures in the places I have been in the world, and considering that one sentence about Psychology is each man's attempt to cope with his environment, it appears some of us are unfortunate enough to be like me and find himself on the outside of social events, the norm and yes even the law. Looking from within and through the bars is not something I am unfamiliar with. Yet there were some things not too unpleasant about it, especially if you could get solitary. If you want to be completely serene, get them to put you in solitary with a straight jacket on. They, society, has to feed you, blow your nose, and give you medical attention. Welp, long enough for this BS. I assure you I am very happy and go lucky these days and sober. I draw the line somewhere early when it comes to sacrificing freedom for safety.
Just passing through from the Lake cabin, the hill country ranch, on to the wilds of Mexico.
Be happy, tolerant, loving, generous and helpful. Dam, sounds like the Boy Scout Code.
The loco Gringo
Serves 'em right for the fright when the case is opened!
Don't you people get it? It's clearly an elaborate cover-up to hide the fact that the dog was killed in a crime of passion.
...I've said too much. Gotta Go.
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