Dawning a Deodorant
I Smell Like a God Damn Lollipop
When life gives you wolf thorns . . .
It should have been a lovely day. It was all so routine.
· Wake up
· Shower
· Tell the cat he’s an ungrateful, good-for-nothing drain on my finances
· Put on deodorant
· Head on out the door
It wasn’t until I stepped outside that my day became a dumpster fire. I was strolling to my neighborhood coffee shop to write this mediocre drivel, when I stopped at a park bench to tie my shoe. Before I knew it, my skin was crawling.
Ants! A double dozen of the little bastards, racing up my legs, straight for the body parts where I’m not supposed to have ants. I proceeded to foxtrot, hoping to boogey them loose, but I could still feel the phantoms of their scurrying feet as I sat down to scribble.
I was all ready to begin writing the next great American novel — I call it The Great Gatsby 2: Nick’s Night Out — when I experienced an unexpected excess of wetness.
“Lulu!” An Alaskan Malamute that was boisterously tonguing my armpit and the owner…
