"Robby is a fuckin' prick."
That jolted me from my daydreams as I was walking by the river on a sunny and pleasant summer day.
The yell belonged to a tattooed White woman, about thirty years old, who was walking towards me along the other edge of the path. "At least she is following the rules of walking on the right side" I thought to myself.
As I drew even to her, she let out another yell: "That's why I told you he is a fuckin' prick."
Her face was redder than the reddest and juiciest tomatoes I have seen this summer. She needed a few anger management classes, it seemed.
I was happy that I was past her, which then allowed me to continue to think about nothing.
"Help. Can somebody help me" crashed my daydreams. What the hell was going on today?
It was a White guy, about thirty years old, with a bicycle that was flat on the riverbank. A sign on his cycle read "save water, eat vegetables." No wonder the guy looked lean and fit like me!
I stopped. He yelled out what sounded like a name. He saw me and said, "that's the last time the dog is ever going into the river."
The dog was far away downstream, in the middle of the river, with its head barely above the water. The dog was trying to paddle its way, but was having some difficulty swimming against the current.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked him. I had no clue. I am useless in most situations. I can think and philosophize, but it doesn't translate to any useful action in the real world.
"Keep calling your dog's name and walk towards him along the shore" I yelled at him. He continued to call out the dog's name. The dog continued to swim against the current. I continued to be useless.
And then I had a brainwave. What if I ran down the path and then caught the dog's attention from further down so that I can make the dog paddle towards the riverbank but not against the current as much. Which is what I did.
As I climbed down to the bank, the dog was already safely on a boulder by the edge of the river. The dog was safe. Phew!
I was about fifty feet downstream from the dog, and the owner was about fifty feet upstream from his pet. I yelled out to the vegetarian, "hey, is everything ok now?"
The dog turned towards me. Crouched a tad. And let out a mean old growl. The dog needed a few anger management classes, it seemed. I walked away fast, looking behind every few seconds to make sure the canine wasn't after me.
I heard a flutter. I was sure it was the dog. I paused. And turned. It was a bird. It had the whitish/greyish plumage like that of an owl, but had a face that was sharper and not flat. If only I knew something about birds. An useless thinker I am!
The bird glared at me. It spread its wings. I was sure it was getting ready to attack me. And then it thought otherwise. Wings down it scurried into the huge hole in the tree trunk. The bird needed a few anger management classes, it seemed.
I resumed the walk and and the day dreaming about nothing.
I was a couple of minutes away from home when I saw three women in scrubs power-walking. I came up with a wonderful line to tell them. "You look like Charlie's Angels on a medical mission." I couldn't control my grin. It never takes much to amuse myself.
As I neared them, I was all set to deliver my line. But then I thought, what if they also have some anger management issues and beat the crap out of me?
I walked in silence and entered the sanctuary of the hermitage.
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