Usain bolt ain’t got shit on me

I’m mostly physically lazy when I’m not at work, but I like to go for walks in the evening when I can, both to “walk off my supper” and to keep the circulation going in my legs and feet, since I know that if I live long enough, piss-poor circulation and leg amputation are in my future, if a family history as well as the odd feelings in my own feet are to be believed.

So, two nights ago I was out walking on the local bike path at about 9:30.  It’s small-town America here, and I’m a 6-foot guy, and in the dark you wouldn’t know that I’m old and feeble, so I don’t worry too much about walking out there alone in the dark.  I walked out, on the part where it cuts across country, for about a mile, then turned around and headed back.  When I got within about 50 feet of where the path crosses the road, I heard a rustling in the leaves.  Even though it was windy, I could tell the difference between the wind blowing stuff around and a critter suddenly lurching out from the row of pine trees.  It was definitely an animal, and of course I looked to see what it was.

To make a long story short, when I realized that there was a skunk not ten feet ahead and slightly to the right of me, I did (what felt like) a sort of combination jump, lurch, and levitation of about 6 feet, to my left, and took off like I was running the anchor leg of an Olympic relay race.  I’d bet my lost youth that Pepe Le Pew was at least as shocked as I was, when he popped out from the tree line and saw 190 pounds of hulking clumsy Norwegian-American shuffling right in front of him, but I didn’t stop and ask how he felt about it.  It was by far the closest I’ve ever been, on foot, to a live skunk.  So now, when I go for my evening walks, it’s going to be on the part of the bike path that doesn’t go between the tree lines.  For the time being, anyway.

Somebody found my blog by searching for “Sandy Cheeks having sex”.  I’m so proud that, as of this writing, I’m number 10 on the list for a Google search for that.  Which brings to mind one of my favorite “Oh shit, we’re screwed” moments from TV or movies:  When Spongebob finally gets Sandy to realize that she wasn’t inside a giant cave kicking an Alaskan bull worm’s ass, that she was actually inside the worm’s mouth wrestling just its tongue:  “Oh….., this is the tongue…, and the whole thing is the worm….RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!”

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4 Responses to Usain bolt ain’t got shit on me

  1. gregoryno6 says:

    Ten feet seems like a safe distance to me. But the only skunk I’ve ever encountered was in a zoo, so I’m not exactly Le Experte on the subject.

  2. We have skunks galore out here. They must like the weather. Thankfully, they are very shy, not at all like Le Peu (Oh– mon cherie!– ve could make beautiful musiac togethair) or I’d have to hide my cat. And you’re sort of freaking me out with all this talk about amputation. Have you tried massage? I mean, seriously? But I guess if you’re that tall to begin with, you could spare a few feet. (No! Where I live, most people think of body work as being just as important as going to the dentist. Try a masseuse!)

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