I’m not sure if it’s that my refrigerator has gotten smaller
or my gut has gotten bigger, but it seems that I must venture out among the
living a lot more often these days than I prefer. I never had to sneak out of my cage when I was
a young primate, primarily because my parents kept my kibble dish topped off,
and our CB radio tuned to the titillating teachings of truck drivers at the local
Motel 6. Now my wife cruelly leaves me
alone without nary a paw-massage or flea picking for almost 8 hours every day;
so what choice does a rabid werewolf have other than to eat strange meat and
meet strange people, but usually NOT at the same time.
I instinctively know that it is hypocritical for me to be
irritated that others are out getting in the way of MY world when I try to go
to a food market in the afternoon or during ‘off-hours’. Can I help it if I
wonder why these people aren’t at home doing
something productive like watching TV, thinking about ironing, or better yet
DYING OFF? At Wally Mart, can’t a simple Scrooge try to anonymously purchase a
lot of guns and a little butter after
midnight without 20 carts commandeered by the slow, wrinkled, and soon to be so,
multiplying and converging around his space like ‘chips’ from a Buffalo?
Hey I get it, times are tough and a few more folks are out
of work. Anyway people are living longer now so they need to STRETCH, but can’t
they find anyplace better than where I’m at – like let’s say, a GYM! I am not
really a sourpuss by nature and would tolerate meeting new people more if they
would simply get on with their business efficiently, shuffle out of my way without
leaving any discernible trail, and could only raise their voice while completely
contained within a vacuum.
Of course there is another alternative which might provide just
the right incentive and social conditioning I need to become more tolerant of
my fellow man. What if society simply agrees to individually wrap and license everyone
when away from home, so they look and smell
exactly like bacon? Finally, just the positive
motivator I need to MEAT n’ greet my greasy brethren between the Beano and Halloween
candy clearance aisles, without having to explain away my damp n’ deathless
drooling.
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