Dear pretty girl on the sidewalk,
I am sorry for scaring you; I will say that to begin with. I think it’s your responsibility to look where you’re going when you are traipsing blithely out of a boutique, but I was raised to be considerate toward women so I feel responsible.
First of all, you must understand that I am an animal. I lack whatever higher brain functions differentiate homo sapiens from abject beasthood, though I do boast opposable thumbs. I was raised by wolves.
Actually that’s not true, I was adopted and raised by two loving and devoted parents of considerable culture and intelligence. I could not have asked for better. But sometimes I feel like I was raised by wolves. I don’t seem to be able to do things the regular way all the time.
You traipsed in front of me on the sidewalk after dark, swinging your arms widely, and I was in the middle of my tempo run, and I had to gallop to a stop to avoid tackling you, making a lot of stomping noises in the process. You screamed and looked very scared. Sorry about that.
Also I may have glared at you. My bad!
It’s easy to forget that when you are of a certain height and weight and general size you can be physically imposing to some. A glare that might be merely impetuous on the face of a man of a slighter build could seem to be menacing on the face of a larger man.
Actually I am interested to know what it’s like to be willowy and pretty like you, maybe just for a day. If it means I have to scream and cover my mouth all wide-eyed when unexpected things happen, maybe it’s not that great, but you know… the grass is always greener.
Also, and I don’t mean this by way of excuse, when I’m running like that I sort of enter a red haze. I can’t see all that well. I have to turn my iPod up pretty much as far as it will go in order to be able to discern it from the noise of blood and lymphatic fluid burbling and farting around my innards. In short, on occasions like this, if I turned up Van Halen any louder I’m reasonably certain that my liquified brain would squirt forth from my tear ducts. So, maybe I wasn’t paying attention as much as I could have been.
Do you think that “squorth” has a future as a verb, as a replacement for “squirt forth”?
Anyway I am sorry I scared you. I hope you won’t think badly of me or of runners in general.
(raised by wolves)
P.S. It’s not always Van Halen.