I didn't kill a dog today. I think it's important that you know that before we get started--it'll make things easier later on. Not only did I not kill a dog today, I didn't even hurt a dog today.
By the way, fellas, that is a great pick-up line, you feel free to use it.
Okay, so here's the deal. Here's how it went down. Here's the scene.
I'm driving down the street at a reasonable speed, because I'm at work, and I get paid by the hour, so there's no reason to exceed the limit. I'm thinking about t-shirts, because I spend an odd amount of time thinking about t-shirts.
I don't know why, really, it's just something I do. Sometimes I think about designs that I want to make for t-shirts, but other times I just sit there and think about how wonderful and comfortable they are, as opposed to the bullshit button-up bastards that I have to wear at work.
I was also thinking about my eyeballs, because they itched all day long and about drove me insane. I wanted to rub my eyes, but I refused, because earlier in the day, I was rubbing my eye and I cut a turn too tight and bounced my back tire off the curb, and felt like a huge asshole.
I'm not the best driver in the world, but I take a certain amount of pride that I do okay, for the most part. I know everyone thinks that they're good drivers, but considering that it's basically my job to drive, I think I'm a little better than a lot of the people out there on the road. Especially the people on the road in Austin, because most of them drive like complete shit suckers.
In case you didn't realize, shit suckers don't drive very well. I know I shouldn't stereotype like that, but I do.
So I'm driving.
There's a pickup coming my way from the opposite direction. For this next part of the story, I've prepared a handy illustration so that you can follow along.
That first picture is pretty self-explanatory, I think. There's me, and there's some guy in a truck. What you probably don't realize at first glance is that there's a little black mark in the back of his truck. If I could draw, that spot would look much more like a dog. And, um, the trucks would look like trucks. Look, I write, okay? You want some fancy-pants draw guy, you go to a different website.
But whatever. Dog. In the back of the pickup.
Which I probably shouldn't have told you, because it spoils the surprise. Because when I was driving, I absolutely did not know there was a dog in the back of the guy's truck. Until he pulled a total asshole move.
Instead of stopping and waiting for me to pass, the asshole in the truck decided to just accelerate to the intersection and take a fast left turn. What he didn't count on was physics, gravity, and common sense.
As he raced around the corner, the dog flew out of the truck.
Now remember, I was in another vehicle, coming the opposite direction (see illustration 1. It's not numbered, but it's the one on top). So what I see is some asshole fly around the corner and suddenly I have a dog launched at me.
If you want, you can look at the second illustration. I put it a little askew so that you could feel the tension of the moment. I'm artsy like that.
It was one of those bizarre moments in life where time slows down, you know? I see this dog sailing out into the air, and I had time to think, "Dog Bomb!"
And then the dog hit the street and started rolling. Right at me. Using my cat-like reflexes, I slammed on the brakes. Actually, that's not accurate. Most cats I know have pretty shitty reflexes, and I bet it only gets worse if they're behind the wheel of a car. I mean, what the hell do cats know about driving? You have some cat in charge of avoiding an accident, it'll probably just hide under the seat and get everybody killed. Plus, even if the damn cat could drive, I doubt it would go all out to save a dog's life like I did.
So basically, I slammed on the brakes using my reflexes that are far superior to cat reflexes. I should mention that because my allergies have gotten bad lately, I was dosed up on near-lethal amounts of antihistamine and pseudoephedrine, which really helped out in the alertness field, I think.
I couldn't swerve, because there were other cars around (I didn't draw it, but there were two lanes on each side, and there was one car on the right side of me, and several in the opposite lane). Everything in my truck slid forward, tumbling off the seat, smashing into the floorboards, all that. Chaos. I stared at the dog, who had stopped rolling and was now just sitting there in the street, looking confused as all fuck.
My truck is a stick shift, and it's my habit, when I stop, to move the gear shift left and right each time I take it out of gear, just so I don't let off the clutch and kill the engine at a stoplight or something. So as I'm desperately trying to keep from killing this dog, my feet mashed down on the clutch and brake pedals, my stupid right hand is furiously working the stick, just left and right and left and right, I don't know why.
I lose sight of the dog, and wait for the thump, because it's lined up exactly with my right tire. Instead, the squealing of my tires stops, and I hear the lightest thump as my plastic bumper taps the dog in the head. The dog steps back, glances in my direction, and then runs to the side street, where the asshole pickup driver has stopped. The dog jumps into the bed of the truck, and they take off.
I glance in my rear-view mirror and see a line of cars that could have potentially slammed into me as I tried not to kill the dog. There's five of them, and the little Honda directly behind me looks like it might be parked on my bumper.
"Motherfuck," I say, ramming the stick into first gear. "I almost killed that dog."
At my next stop, I quickly texted a co-worker:
I almost killed a dog just now.
hahahaha geez man
It was insane.
Why, was it meowing?
No, but it was screaming, "mama help!"
Yeah, I have some quality conversation at work.
Anyway, so I didn't kill a dog today.