In San Francisco there once lived a dog named Osis. So beloved by the couple who owned him, they left him behind with strangers. This beast became the bane of my life when some friends and I 'house sat' his owners' place of residence for a summer, for next to no money on the basis we also sat Osis. Sat...sounds so similar to the past tense of the monster's favourite pastime. Fitting.
The creature hated me.
I also wrestled him for a sandwich but that's neither here nor there.
On sunny days I would take him on walks, where he would beshit the pavements in front of occupied gardens as the occupiers looked on, stop and beshit the driveway entrances JUST as cars were about to turn in, the drivers having to pause as he did his dirty business, with me looking fawn-like into their windscreens. Once, I was so mortified, I pulled his lead, attempting to drag him away before he could settle in for a good crap, leaving an Autumn brown skid mark stretching allllll the way across the property of the lady who stood witness to his and, vicariously, my gypsy like depravity. He even beshit a plate which was then used for a game of Dares, but that at least was useful.
When not beshitting, he was also quite vicious, but only if provoked. Which I inadvertently did one night with hilarious consequences.
It was quite late of a Tuesday and my three co-sitters were all sleeping in the bedroom of the bungalow, two in the bed, one on the floor in a sleeping bag, Osis beside. Bored of watching tv, I had the marvellous idea of taking a large carving knife from the kitchen, sneaking around the back of the house to said bedroom and as it was a hot night and windows were justifiably left open, sticking the knife into also said window and waving my arm about wildly whilst screaming. As you do. No big deal.
The place erupted.
All three launched into screams, running around the room bumping into things in the blackness, the melee as similar in reaction, I would hazard a guess, as if a rancid wet fart exploded in a sauna darkroom. One of the girls for some bizarre reason decided to jump up and down on the bed to relieve the horror. Osis, seeing her pale Irish face jiggling in the gloom, must have mistook it for a sandwich, much like the one I had wrestled him for the preceding week and decided to retrieve it with his teeth.
Feck.
Fortunately, the Irish skin, hardened and almost calcified by years of rain and potato, withstood this invading American maw and survived intact, unlike my co-sitters senses of humour. 'I was so terrified I was going to kill myself', said one. Well that TOTALLY defeats the purpose of home invasion.
Anyway, onto jokes gone wrong -
Definite Mensa member Megan Fry was killed by 14 state troopers after she wandered onto a live firing 'faketown' simulation. Seeing all the troopers walking slowly down the street, Megan jumped out in front of them and yelled 'Boo!'
You know where this is going. The troopers, thinking she was a pop up target, fired 67 shots between them,over 40 of them hitting the long lost sister of Einstein. 'She just looked like a very real looking target', one of the troopers stated in his report.
Oftentimes when asked to give a speech at the weddings of dear friends, I like to shake it up a bit by taking out my gun and inviting other revellers to play Russian Roulette. Honestly, it's so hot right now. In what may be the worst wedding toast of all time, in March of this year a 33 year old Chechen man produced a shooter and after firing an empty chamber into his own head, believing the gun to be bulletless he then offered it to another guest who was severely wounded after finding the one rubber bullet that somehow found its way inside. Thankfully the man wasn't left as totally brainless as the instigator who was then arrested. Good luck to the DJ topping that with a rendition of Sweet Caroline. Raging.
So remember, this Halloween, have fun, trick or treat, delve deep into spooky Celtic ritual, embrace fear and the paranormal, read in the Herald about scummers putting bangers up cat's arses, watch Hocus Pocus for the 42nd time and still disapprove when they bring up the main teenager being a virgin repeatedly in a children's movie but keep your head, Ichabod. If you see someone holding an axe pre-tree chop, a paramedic about to administer the defibrillator or a fire breather mid exhale, don't think 'Jayzis, wouldn't it be only gas if I grabbed him by the shoulder and said help the Halloween party'.
Adieu ghouls.
PUTRID DUNNE
