Saturday, June 7, 2008

Lily's training is continuing. She is coming to me even when I don't have pieces of hotdog for her. I usually do. I wrap the hotdog in a paper towel or plastic and put it in my pocket as I refuse to buy or wear a fanny pack.

The other night as I was laying in bed. I started to think the trash needed taking out. I could smell it. Then I remembered I had taken the trash out earlier after cleaning the refrigerator. Could it still be rotten celery?

Then I realized it was leftover hotdog in my shorts near the bed.

It had to have been there a while as I played poker earlier in the night and the poker room is filled with smoke and that's mostly what I smelled. To the vegetarian nose a warming hotdog is not pleasant. So I got up and put it back in the special hotdog section of the fridge.

It had been my first trip to the poker room and there was a small bearded guy with a hairlip named Bob who smelled pretty bad according to the people sitting next to him. I couldnt tell over the smoke odor.

Today I went back for an afternoon game. I was sitting for a while and got a whiff of something I imagined must be Bob. He wasn't at my table and I hadn't seen him when I came in and I did check because I like the fact that people had been losing money to him trying to put him out of the game to escape his odor. I doubt this was a conscious strategy but admirable in any case.

I looked behind me to see if he had come in late and was sitting behind me.

As I turned in my chair I felt the pieces of hotdog squish beneath me.

1 comment:

Brian said...

Update, motherfucker.