Monday, April 02, 2007
Ol' McShanon had a bleeding farm.
E I E I Ohhh.
Well, I know of one not too bright like animal waking up with a sore noggun tomorrow. Nope, not bloody me. Yer pack of cheeky bleeding sods. But a wee kangaroo, well not really wee, more medium sized it was. Well medium til it ran head first into my fucking car and pushed its neck down into it's shoulder blades, it lost a few inches doing that...Stoopid kangaroo.
Soon as I heard the bouff noise it made against the car, I thought..."Hmmm, well that's gotta bloody hurt". When I looked in the rear vision mirror it was plonked in the middle of the road trying to shake it off. Almost like they do in the cartoons. But instead of little yellow birds spinning dizzily around the cartoon roo's head, they were bloody blowflies. Eventually it got up and hopped on it's way.
It left a nice sized dent in the passenger door. But that's alright, it weren't my car. Arhaaha. I was driving my mum's. Going by the dents in it, it's had it's fair share of kangaroo kisses so I don't feel bad about it happening whilst I was driving it.
The local birds are under the impression that I run a soup kitchen for them. It's more like a bloody restaurant really. Their menu consists of seed, crushed up stale bread, dognuts and diced dogroll, all that, plus a pan of fresh water. I've got finches and wrens, magpies and kookaburras. The other day I realised that I'm aiding a disabled magpie. It has a club foot.
Today, while I was dicing up the dogroll, it came closer to me, I carried on what I was doing, pretending to ignore it but started talking to it, as you do. It seemed to be enjoying my conversation as it did this scrabble, clump hop to get closer still. Then again that might have been because it was bloody hungry. I hadn't opened the kitchen fer a few days, don't want them getting complacent and needy now, do I. Anyway, me talking, it getting closer; when it got to within a foot of me I swung around going boogerwoogerblerblah and scared the absolute kerrap out of it. Fuck I laughed. Aww maggie come back I was only playing...It did.
Had to go help me trusty volunteer Mardge, she rang me on Friday, she wanted and valued my opinion...her words, and she doesn't lie. heh...on deciding who to give an interview to, out of the eight applicants for my job. We arranged to meet Sunday after lunch. Was all hush hush like, because it's a breach of confidentiality; me seeing the resumes when I'm not on the interview panel blah blah, not important, blah.
Wasn't til I was driving in that I thought of her freaking dog Lily. It's one of those little ankle biter yappy dogs, one with a little dog complex. It comes flying and I mean flying up the path, all snappy and snarly as if it's gunna take me down at the knees. Usually when it gets to within centimetres of my legs, it then hovers a few inches off the ground, because of the gusto in which it's barking and carrying on.
Doesn't matter how often I've been there, it's always the same reaction, I don't feel bad because everyone gets the same reception from it. But, one day it's gunna put the wind up me enough, that I will instinctively lash out and dropkick it when it starts to levitate. I just hope if that ever does happen, Marge isn't home to hear her wee little dawg go boot...yarooh...splat.
Ew. Back to the Old Scrubbers tomorrow. I'm dealing with a regular twelve of the beastly things now. You would think, after three and a half years of running the Day Care I would have managed to cull a few of them out. Not to be, they've only mutated in attendance. Although it is with quiet pride I say, not one of the old beggars has carked it on me.
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
7:09 am ::
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