A Walk In The Park

It is Sunday and I head out into the cold, and recently wet, for my hours exercise, early before the tourists turn up, lockdown, or not.

The first thing I see is a sexy boy in blue short, shorts, a green t-shirt and a cap walking across the museum plaza. Nice legs, nice arse I think as I pick up my pace.

There are dark, rain soaked colours in the park. There are not many people in the park just the way I like it.

There are a couple of athletic wog boys in track pants throwing a frisbee as I head up the hill on the north side.

People exercising in puffer jackets makes no sense, I think, as a chick comes towards me with corded earphones staring down at her phone.

I’m walking across the plaza on the Rathdowne Street side, when a fat chick in nude coloured tights and a dark coloured top who genuinely looks like she has left the house forgetting to put on her pants. I am somewhat alarmed when I first spot her, as she really looks naked from the waste down. I wonder if that is the reaction she was going for?

Walking across the museum plaza, the sun comes out. A woman walking a golden retriever and a woman walking a small black terrier head towards me.

Magpies call by the tennis courts. There is something wonderful about the magpie’s song.

Then Stephen Fry comes walking towards me with a small bat-eared dog and I do a double take. He is wearing ill-fitting grey trousers, a blue crumpled suit coat and a green shirt.

The hot wog boys have been replaced by a couple of hot Asian boys throwing a frisbee in exactly the same place up by the caretaker’s cottage, my second time around. They are wiry and agile and spend a lot of their time flying through the air.

The sun comes out as I walk along Rathdowne Street warming my face.

The Asian lady with the golden retriever from the other day is in exactly the same place by the Rubik’s cube. It is a weird deja vu.

There is a guy training a black Lab seeing eye dog.

There is a woman with a chihuahua. I want to run over and jump on it, but, of course, I don’t. How could anyone like those fowl little dogs?

Stephen Fry appears again walking in the completely different direction to what he was walking the first time, as though he was a part of the ministry of funny walks.

The cute fresh-faced blonde boy with long hair from yesterday jogs across the museum plaza by Rathdowne Street.

An Asian couple run a baby Malamute across the museum plaza. It leaps about as if it wants to say hello to everyone it sees.

A guy on a bike with a noticeable wet arse rides up to the cross road. He gets off his bike, pulling wet denim from his arse crack, his jocks are clearly up his hole, as he is digging around up there for a while. He pushes his bike through the gardens, very PC of him, I think. I never understand why people can’t ride their bikes through the gardens because, let’s face it, everyone does anyway.

Still more idiots exercising in puffer jackets. Seriously? These people should be studied and we may just find out why people are vaccine hesitant and why people believe in conspiracy theories. I’m going for global warming induce brain rot.

There is a mother and daughter walking a grey and white chihuahua as I head down to Rathdowne and Victoria cnr. I growl at it, and true to form the nasty excuse for a living creature growls back.

There is an Asian man with a cavalier walking in front of me, and a red-haired woman with a big dog holding her dogs pooh bag like it is a precious thing walking towards me.

An obese Asian chick is waddling in my direction, with some noticeable difficulty, as if she is on a doctored ordered diet plan, and this was its first day.

I think Noel Gallagher comes walking towards me as the sun comes as I am about to leave the park, but I think better of it, Noel Gallagher would never be the cause of the sun coming out.

I leave the park.