A dog named Lucky

I met a dog today.
That’s right! His name was Lucky. Why? I asked his owner. He has a dog’s life, she said. He’s Lucky. Without plunging into the melancholic sides of existentialism, I greeted Lucky as a friend. He sniffed me twice and found me to be smelling just the way a friend should smell. Tobacco, coffee and sweat, on my part. But Lucky didn’t judge me for my thoughts or how I looked, ’cause Lucky considered me a friend since I had asked for his friendship. The receptionist entered the scene and hushed Lucky out of there. I, the unlucky one, had to get on with whatever pointless copying I was doing..

I met that girl today. I think she’s over thirty. But why have nature shaped her so youthfully, with brown eyes you could eat? Last time she was on the flirting front, but as you probably gather from that incident, I’ve lost my status as libido object. She still keeps talking, though. She talks and talks and talks and talks. She’s studied psychology but didn’t read my anxiety to have a cigarette, to get my shit done.. *shrug*
Well, I was standing there, and she was talking (and talking and talking), and I just thought; if we’d been dogs, I’d be getting laid by now.. Social conventions. Bah! Who needs them!?

She says she’s been a teacher. Mmmmmmm. Schoolgirls. :D

But I wouldn’t survive that talking for more than half an hour. I got away at 28 minutes and 34 seconds of constant jabbering today. I was Lucky! That’s why I could never marry. That’s why I’m better off without a wife. Tom Waits’ word of wisdom from Everything goes to hell:

I only want to hear your purr, hear you moan
You’ve got another man who brings the money home
I don’t want dishes in the sink
Please don’t tell me what you feel or what you think

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