Short and Angie take vacations monthly. This time they’re in North Carolina so I have a house guest for the week, a chocolate lab named Wrigley. Because I have no yard, I walk Wrigley down the alley behind my building to an empty lot several times a day so he can walk around a little bit and do his business.
this is the alley behind my building
Usually there’s no one in the alley. This morning there was a gigantic asshole.
The asshole wore an old, bright pink button down shirt, blue jeans, and had a straw hat covering his head. He walked slowly with a really bad limp and used a cane. I think he was homeless, except his clothes were not dirty enough to fit the homeless person stereotype.
Wrigley and I emerged from my parking lot, into the alley. Wrigley, being the friendly dog that he is, and having a habit of sniffing assholes, started to approach the man. When I say approach, I don’t mean that he was growling, barreling toward the man and foaming at the mouth. I mean he was trotting slowly in the man’s general direction, tail wagging uncontrollably. Regardless, if a strange dog is approaching someone, I can see how it may frighten them. Fair enough. The man looked at Wrigley, held his cane above his head, ready to beat Wrigley and started screaming something indiscernible. Must’ve been asshole-speak. Both Wrigely and I sensed that this guy probably wasn’t a dog lover. I called to Wrigley who was already on his way back to me.
I apologized to the man, knowing that the apology really wasn’t warranted, plus he probably wouldn’t understand what I was saying as I’m typically only fluent in asshole after a lot of beers or with a bunch of friends around. He continued yelling, flailing his cane about and limping toward us. At this point I was only a few feet away from him. Wrigley, terrified of the man’s continuous screaming and cane waving did his business sitting right next to me, shaking.
The asshole continued his approach and for a moment I could see myself in a struggle with him. I’ve never been in a fight, and I surely didn’t want my first fight to be with a homeless cripple (I know what you’re thinking - it’d be a fair fight, ha ha). In my mind’s eye, the fight actually was pretty comical. I wouldn’t have known what to do. Take his cane? Hit him with his hat? Just start swinging? Knowing he has bum leg, I could’ve just started kicking. I had no doubt that I could outrun him, even if I had to pick up Wrigley while he was still pissing.
“Quit fucking with me!” he screamed.
“Nobody’s fucking with you,” I responded, calmly, rolling my eyes. I turned to walk back toward the Pearl building, the dog right next to me.
The man continued his tirade, telling me that if he had his gun, he would shoot me, then he would shoot the dog, and next time he sees me I’m dead, except his version was sprinkled with a healthy amount of f-bombs. I don’t like being threatened. I turned and glared at the man and yelled… “Whatever!” Then I just stared at the old dickhead. He turned and limped away , continuing his yelling, really all I could understand was “fuck”. When he was out of sight, I walked back down the alley to my parking lot.
Next time I see him I’m going to tell him that I slept with his wife.
no wonder wrigley likes to sniff me so much when I’m around.