July 20, 2008

While sitting on my front porch today reading and enjoying the warm air, my peace was suddenly shattered by an unfamiler group of laddies roughhousing their way down the street and past my house. They were just having fun and doing what laddies do: roughhousing, swearing, and filling the surrounding air with their wretched stinks. Ever notice how a group of men, no matter the age, tend to stink the place out yet a group of females tend to to smell of flowers and freshly baked goods? Anwho, one small yet significant part, at least concerning this blog, of the roughhouising included one chap hurling something at another chap striking his target on the shoulder. Below, you see the hurled object: one of those Cub or Boy Scout tie/scarf things they wear around the neck. The thing deflected off the chap and landed in my front yard where it was deserted. Look at how the pubils glow. My God, it’s the Hound of the Baskervilles! Luckily, I am not a Baskerville descendent, so I have nothing to fear. But wait, I hear something slowly and eeriliy creeping up form behind, but of course I’ll write about it before investigating.