Did You Take a Dump on Good Friday?

I had to work today. Sure, I wasn't literally nailed to a cross or anything, but I did have to work. And sometimes work feels not unlike being glued to a thing that feels like it's killing you though you don't want to die but you'll probably die if you don't do the thing that will kill you.  Some of you may not know or remember what "having to work" is, and if that's the case, rock n' roll: consider yourself envied by me. Some of you are unemployed in Recession '09 and would jump at the chance to work today, and in that case, I consider myself envied by you. And save for a long meeting, it was a fairly slow day with light subway commuter traffic and all the jazz that generally gives me anxiety. 

I was on my way home waiting for the light to change and a block from my apartment when I recognized a guy who lives in my building. A married, attractive guy in his 30's with dark hair whom I don't know by name, but we always exchange pleasantries when we see each other in the elevator and lobby and whatnot. Anyway, he was listening to his iPod while his spastic dog of 4 years, a dumb, nervous Weimaraner, was taking a dump. I've seen it a hundred times before. 

When I got the "walk" sign and I crossed the street towards them,  I heard my neighbor's voice. For a split second, I assumed he was singing to his music, but then I realized he was classically "giving someone the business" like only a New Yorker can. The object of his tirade? A couple in their late 70's--dressed in the 1970s-- walking arm-in-arm. They had just passed him on the sidewalk and clearly said something to him which he took sideways. The old man was wearing glasses a la Joe Paterno complete with old man hat, and his wife was dowdy doodles. 

"OF COURSE I'M GOING TO PICK IT UP! WHY DON'T YOU GET A LIFE?!?!?!? GET A FUCKING LIFE, YOU FUCKIN' ASSHOLES?!?!? GET A FUCKING LIFE YOU FUCKIN' ASSHOLES! GET A LIFE!!!! GET A FUCKING LIFE! YOU ASSHOLES! GET A LIFE! ASSHOLES!" screamed my neighbor. 

Once I got to the other side of the street, I stopped in my tracks for the show. The old couple, who must have said, "You better pick that up, whippersnapper!" turned East toward 3rd Avenue, and I hovered near the corner of the building to see where this was going to go. Turns out it went exactly where I knew it would. 

Neighbor with dumb nervous dog hastily scraped up the poop, and with the bag of poop in hand and iPod in place, he quickened his pace as did the dog to reach the old couple who were now halfway down the block to flail the bag of poop in their faces and shout more shit about what fucking assholes they were, to which they responded by jay walking away from him to the other side of the street and with the old man gesturing and mumbling with his arm half-cocked in the air in an Grumpy Old Men retaliation-style gesture. 

Neighbor with dumb nervous dog was still shouting and flailing as I made my way to my--or should I say--our, apartment building. I passed the spot where the poor thing took a dump, and there was one yellowish brown nugget on the concrete which the neighbor neglected to put in the bag. T'was probably left it in the heat of the moment of giving some fucking assholes who need to get a life the business.

Happy Good Friday!

Get a fucking life, you assholes.