In the Desert

The desert is as it is when it sleeps, and dogs that yelp at any noise have its attention. And mine. The dog next door yelps. Tonight – I’ll say it in a few nice words – a man wants to sit in it all for pleasure. And people who have dogs that yelp at any noise need help.

I pissed tonight in a royal way from my house into my double peanut-butter-on-toast yard. What kind of noise does that make? Will the dog next door think that’s the kind of sound it makes?

In the morning I sit and have a cup of coffee and the dog yelps again. I later stand on my three steps and let the entire neighbourhood know how I felt last night. I let loose on the lady next door. I said a lot but I kept from saying those words that I wanted to say about her dog yelping.

I asked if she had heard any uncomfortable noises from my house that would make her feel it was necessary to call the Association. Any screaming from pleasure or pain?

All this retired old man wants is to sit outside in the morning with his coffee and toast and without noise. And in the evening with his 9 to 12 ounce cocktails and just listen to the desert go to sleep.

I don’t hate dogs. I hate people who don’t give a shit about others and their comfort in life.

The lady’s dog next door needs help. People who have cocktails and listen to the dog like it belongs in this desert need help. Tonight I’ll piss in a royal noise from my house. Without making a sound. I’ll toast the yard. I’ll yelp my cocktails for pleasure or for pain. I don’t care how uncomfortable it is for the neighbours.

And I’ll be an ass if it should all kick off again.

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