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Monday
Aug092010

Lady with the bloody dog

I had a debate with myself yesterday, which I still haven't settled.  Do I avoid the ghetto Fry's and its sketchy patrons, no matter how close it is to my house, or do I risk it in order to have stories like these?

I was in line for the self-check-out, right behind a man in one of those electric scooters the store provides.  He was in his thirties or forties, sitting quite comfortably with his legs spread out wide while wearing basketball-type shorts (which always creeps me out, to be honest, because this fabric is much too thin and flexible to be worn in public with your legs spread so far.  There's simply not enough structure between your crotch, and my entire existence.)

As I walked up behind him to wait, a woman, not quite Chekhovian, with a husky on a leash, walked past us.  The man in the scooter turned around, and with a strong Russian accent, and through a few missing front teeth, commented on the big dog, and that he has or had one even bigger.  I gave the obligatory "Oh, yeah, that's a big dog," and a small smile.

Gesturing toward the back of the dog as it walked away, he said, "It's in heat." 

"Oh," I said, and automatically glanced over without thinking.  The dog's skin was slightly reddish in that region, though nothing terribly obvious.

"She's bleeding," he continued.  Apparently he didn't get that Emily Post memo on...well, maybe he just didn't get that memo on Emily Post... 

"Yeah..." I said, and tried to look around to appear uninterested without being overly dismissive.

"Good thing I'm not dog!"  The Russian laughed.

---

I also saw him standing up outside after we'd both purchased our items, and, I'm pretty sure, unlocking his bicycle after parking the scooter.  But somehow, despite his questionable usage of the courtesy vehicle, and his inappropriate conversation starters (and finishers), I can't say I hold entirely disagreeable feelings toward him.  He appeared to have no malicious intentions, or any intentions at all, for that matter, and just seemed somehow pleased with himself, like a little boy who had a good show-and-tell. 

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