October 20, 2010

Pooch Patrol

My wife has been the victim of yet another heinous pooch crime. With so many recurrences, I feel like I need to form a neighborhood pooch patrol to prevent this from happening again to helpless victims like my wife. This time, the perpetrator was the security guard at our apartment. This is a transcript of what follows as we enter the building last night.

Security guard: Hey, you're pregnant aren't you.
Jessie: Uh, no I'm not. (She doesn't want people to know just yet.)
Security guard: Yes you are! How many months pregnant are you?
Jessie: I'm not pregnant!
Security guard: Come on...how many months?
Jessie: I'm only a few weeks pregnant! Whah!!

She flees into the elevator and I follow quickly behind. As she buries her head in my shoulder, I scowl menacingly at the camera that's mounted on the elevator. I know you're watching Mr. Security Guy! No one comes between me and my wife's pooch! You will have your comeuppance for your careless remarks!

I give the camera my best Chuck Norris death stare. There’s an urban legend that death row inmates in Texas are put to death by having Chuck Norris stare at them. I'm from Texas, and it's no legend, folks. Everything you've heard about the man is true.

I don't know if I managed to scare the security guy into submission, but by the time we reach our floor, I feel like I've strained an eye muscle or two from glaring at the camera too long. Who knew that being a daddy-to-be would come with such health hazards.

No comments:

Post a Comment