This is an posting that I put on Craig's List that won a
"Best Of" vote. It was just for fun but fun it was!
An open letter to the stealth dog on my street
Date: 2005-05-26, 4:17PM PDT
Dear Frightening Large German Shepard/Pitt Bull Mix,
What is your problem with me?! I can't help it that I can't afford a lawn
tractor of my own and have to borrow one from my folks. I also can't help it
that I have to drive the damn thing from my parents house, past your house on
the way to mine. It's bad enough that, as long as people see and recognize me
driving said lawn tractor on the road, I will forever be single. There is
something inordinately unsexy about cruisin' around on Mom and Pop's Snapper.
So, today, you decide to lie in wait in the open grassland your owner calls a
yard. I gotta give it to you. You are one patient predator and it really helps
that your hair is the same color as dead weeds. I didn't even hear you coming
over the roar of my "Rear Engine Rider". When I saw the tan flash out of the
corner of my eye I mashed the "forward" pedal so hard my flip flop came off. I
looked back and you were "hocking it in her" (as my brother likes to say). I
didn't know what to do! I tried in vain to coax more speed from the red beast. I
even tried wiggling the steering wheel really hard in an effort that looked more
like a crazed muppet with a drum set. I looked back again and you'd gained
considerable ground. My heart was in my throat. Panic had taken over. I could
see the look on your face and knew your name was probably not "Cuddly Bear" or
"Fluffy". That's when I learned that beer can be used as a "dog bite deterrent".
I pulled that beautiful bottle of ice cold Sierra Nevada from the Snapper's
"convenient cup holder" and swung it like a paddle in a pro ping pong match.
That amber liquid of the gods arced and caught you right square in the kisser. I
take it you won't be drinking with me. It's very apparent that you don't like
micro brewed beer. Fortunately, your hacking and spitting gave me and the few
golden moments I needed to execute a getaway at the speed of smell. So listen
here buddy boy! Know this! The next time I come by your house on the lawn
tractor from hell, I'll be packing. One Sierra for me....and one for you!
Lawn Mower Girl