...Or nearly so. Yet another critter ran out in front of my car tonight. This time it was a polecat. SO GLAD I didn't hit him, my car would have smelled like rotting cabbage and burning tires for weeks.
You don't have to hit them. They get scared and spray as you drive by; there'll still be a nasty whiff of polecat juice in your vents. So I give the little buggers a wide berth.
I think I've said too much already. A girl can't lay down all her cards at once. Good thing my deck goes higher than 52. I wish I were a guy so I could pee anywhere I wanted while standing up. That's real power. I'd like to meet the following: My great-great grandparents, the N. Oklahoma ones, not the Swiss gentry. My woebegone friendship with Adam G. The man who's going to be with me till we're retired to the porch swing sucking on glycerine tablets, and who still reads to me at night, while I rub his feet. My ambitions with commitment and discipline. The characters from old David Lee Roth videos. Hot carb on carb action. That fucker who keeps trying to take the bbq, in a dark alley, satan's minions, lilliputians, nigglers, pifflers, piddlers, snake-oil peddlers, cripples, do-gooders, truth-seekers, sweethearts, wandering minstrels, interlopers, robber barons, saints, sinners, people who snort and guffaw, holler and whoop, tender tender people with good hearts, and all my fat little babies. I like BUTTER! And Vitamin Z!
2 comments:
You don't have to hit them. They get scared and spray as you drive by; there'll still be a nasty whiff of polecat juice in your vents. So I give the little buggers a wide berth.
oh, i know. i live in skunk central, and they spray constantly. fortunately, even though i stopped a foot from the critter, he didn't oblige me.
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