Thursday, April 13, 2017

The Missing Sock




I had a pair of socks, which I put down somewhere, when I went to look for my shoes. I could find one sock easily enough when I came back with my runners. But the second sock?

Buddy was sitting next to me looking up lovingly, as dogs do. "Where is my sock? Where is my sock?" I got up and walked around the room, like that might help.

I couldn't find it, no matter how hard I looked. It was no where to be found. "Where the hell is it?"

I stood at the lounge room door. I came in here I sat there with my socks. I went to get my shoes, in there. I glanced towards the study. I last saw them? I looked from one place to the other and then back again.

"I last saw them..." I looked at the couch where I last saw them... "And the only thing that has changed..." My head swivelled around to Buddy. "You are the only thing that has changed." He squirmed in the one position as I spoke with him.

I walked over and slid my hand under Buddy's arse and voila! The other sock.

There is plenty of arse on a bulldog. A bulldog is mostly arse, the other end is pushed in, and they bend adorably like a banana.

Just like a fag. Well, like a fag in as much as they are handsome and easy going.


I watched rural football, once, when I was in the country waiting for Leah, in Bolago one day. (Leah works and lives in Bolago now a days. I just wandered across the road to the ground, you know the kind where you stand in the mud, and you feel the player’s sweat flick off on to you, as they shake their hair as the run off the ground. The Bulldogs was the name of the side, The Bolago Bulldogs. I tell you what, there was plenty of arse on them young, fit, Bulldogs.

Buddy stared at me oblivious.


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