I think my butt is getting larger and flatter from sitting constantly in front of the computer monitor. I rather find that staring at this inanimate face is better than any other that might possibly frown back at me, or hit me back when I did. Come to think of it, my computer is like a pet. I come home daily from a tedious day at school, and it is there to greet me; a carnival for the programmed mind I say. On some occasional times, I often wonder at what rate am I going blind, or how large has my brain tumor gotten, but then I managed every time to convince myself that the chronic headaches I was getting were merely the effects of oxygen deficiency.
You know, seeing daylight isn't exactly one of my favorite things. Even those cheesy Becel margarine commercials of people running around, smiling in the sun makes me want to hurl into a houseplant. But I do get out of my rut every now and then to breathe in some of that "new" oxygen, however oxymoronic that sounds. I did that today in fact, and around two in the afternoon when no one else that had a life would dream of walking around aimlessly like I was, this recluse ran amuck. The straight street bore that sort of scenery that you get nostalgic about when you were away, though I hardly see enough of it to remember. I mention this particular street because something I saw while walking it today really demonstrated that cliché of "don't judge the book by its cover" (as much as I hate cliches). I don't know, maybe it is my clouded mind that sees things in such a subjective light now, but this really did puzzled me.
I was just sauntering around (the only thing that could be done in this part of town), but aware that I looked like I knew where I was going, when out of no where, I spot the psychotic little woman and her mad dog. I'm not one to pay much attention to detail, yet I knew for a fact that this couple rather liked walking. I always see them on my way back from school, and a few times, the dog tried to bite my face off and piss on the pansies. The woman was in her late fifties probably, maybe even sixty, or seventy, who knows? (When you reach that critical point that your skin can't shrivel anymore, even if you're 50 your looked like 80, and when your 90, you still looked 80) She never wore anything else besides that odd, burgundy, puke-colored overcoat. The big masses of white hair hung almost wild around her stalk white face, covering two very beady blue eyes (or were they a burgundy red?). A fanatic grin seems to be permanently etched on her face; the creepy thing was, despite her gentile age, she had nothing of the cookie-baking granny in her expression. And her dog, holy whore, I think it's her counterpart! Its fur had the same color and texture as that of the old lady's hair, shaggy and without brilliance. It half pulled the woman, grunting and twitching as if it had rabies. I took care in keeping a very good distance away from them as the woman was speaking to the dog as if it were her...husband? I assumed that she was widowed or at least lived a life without much family (or never had). Half way up the street, I crossed the road to make sure I didn't have to give her a sympathy smile if I did happen to look up and see her giving me a twisted grimace. All of a sudden, I hear the scampering of dog's feet and it stopped in my path; the mutt looked at me fiercely and barked like a banshee. I was more bewildered than scared, I mean sure this dog was deranged enough to chew off my foot and drag it to its master, but the way it stood on only three of its legs really astonished me. When it kept moving closer to me, breathing almost on my shoe, I was ready to jet, then I saw her. The old woman was standing a few feet away, leash in her hand, the silent maniacal laugh pierced me almost as loud as it would had it actually had a sound. It struck me that she had released the dog, but why at me? For her amusement? (didn't she have enough fun turning men into toads?) Hey, but I wasn't going to sit down to tea with her and inquire about her mental condition, or what floated her boat, I just walked away as fast as I could out of her sight, still feeling her wee beady eyes at my back that made my neck sweat. I concluded that this is what you get for living in such a district as Delta. You have trees and all kinds of nature crap around, some might think they're witches in a forest! There isn't anywhere to go within walking distance, and all the time, the place was practically deserted. Obviously, a few wackos were inevitable. No, actually, I concluded that I needed to carry mace.