Donning a running outfit and running shoes, going to a popular greenway alongside a street, and communing by putting as much of nature past you as you feel like. It's before the noonday sun bears down, and there's a little moisture still in the air so I figure I'll pass on wearing a light jacket along with my shorts and tee.
Dew is still on the grass, and light moisture still in the air. Stillness prevails. In all, it's a fine morning for a run along the side of the road. Going for the burn before breakfast!
And then the sound of brakes. A jeering voice: "Hey, Bay-bee! You got-a some nice legs." Outside of shin splints or blisters, this is the occasional blight of the runner. The catcalling creep.
Yes, another sighting/hearing of Anus americanus vulgaris: The common American asshole. Still, you can't physically confront these overstuffed specimens, just hope that they will go on their merry, obtuse ways.
No, he is a dawdling pest. Now he goes, "Hup, two, three, four!" in full volume at me.
So I did the ill-advised: I shot him the digital avain.
Screech! He came to a sudden stop, and got out out of his car. Like wow! He's a big bloke!
I ran across the neutral ground, and dared him to get me.
He finds out he's not up to a chase. Being called 'lardass' doesn't improve his mood.
Runner 1, Heckler 0.
9 comments:
Those kind can be pests.
I have to plead guilty to admiring the feminine form in running attire.
However, as the dad of a young woman, I generally refrain from even a passing nod or good morning. I really don't want them to feel any discomfort or think that I'm some kind of creepy old guy.
I often think that the earbuds are just a decoy that lends to being able to ignore such comments from the occasional anal orifice.
My apologies for the crude members of the gender.
Blessings to you, my young friend!
Stopping and getting out of the car would have freaked me out! My hubby always admires the flopping pony tails, but doesn't do the catcalls.Be safe!
I quit walking along roads because young males love to drive up behind you and blow the horn to scare you.
This is one of the consolations of getting older.
Getting out of the car was a threatening act, for which he deserved a public caning on his fat ass. I'm glad your fine running legs kept you safe, Ms Pop Tart.
In retrospection, what I did was unsafe! But the tough New Orleans style comes out sometimes.
be safe out there!!
"Anus Americanus Vulgaris." I'm writing that down!!!
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