Today I helped a visually impaired man to cross the road. He reached out and placed his hand
on my arm. We began to cross the road.
As we did so, he apologised for having 'shit on his hands'
I tried to sneak a peek at what and how much of said shit was
on his hands and to what portion was being placed on my person.
But one of us had to keep our eyes peeled on the road ahead so i couldnt catch a glimpse.
I said to the fella, Oh mate. You couldve told me that before you popped your hands
on my arm. What do you mean youve got shit on your hands? I picked up the pace a little.
I work at the lost dogs home he says.
Oh bloody hell. He really has got shit on his hands then. You're just about on your own here Charlie
lest you fess up as to what the turd is on your clammy little mits or let go and Ill guide you by voice.
Nooooooo, he says. Not really shit. Not real shit. Not dog shit.
I slow down a notch.
Ive just been patting them all day and grooming them. You know...? Just dog all over my hands
Did no one guide you to a sink? Did you ask?
We reach the other side, I make sure he's right to be on his way and head to the nearest public
dunny to wash my wrist. I hate dog on me. Especially lost dog. That's why they've been let go and lost in the first place.
They bloody stink.
Friday, November 18, 2011
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