This morning I woke up with crazy over-the-top energy. To keep from jumping out of my skin I hopped on my ten-speed, and headed for a picturesque, rural highway that begins at the end of my street. Here are some of the things I saw along the way.
I saw a catbird chasing a raven. Next, I saw a raven chasing a red-tailed hawk. Nice symmetry - raven pursued, followed by raven pursuer. Anyway, my next find was a soggy porno magazine with a french title. It was nestled in a patch of my favorite weeds - the lovely Japanese day flower - not to be confused with the very similar Virginia day flower. Being uncompromisingly noble, and chaste of spirit, I resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the cavorting nudies depicted inside the smutty magazine. Still, as I pedalled onward, I found myself feeling oddly distracted. I couldn't stop thinking about that nasty magazine. Finally, I had no choice but to take myself firmly in hand, and give myself a good talking to. In no time at all I had my moral compass pointing in the right direction, and was able to go about my business. About an hour later I stopped for a drink of water in the driveway of a firehouse. On the blacktop nearby some pigeons were picking at a disgarded hamburger bun. Among the garden variety pigeons one stood out from all the rest. He was a fancy specimen with a puffed up ruff that extended from his chin to his belly. The feathers of his ruff reminded me of those Chinese chrysanthemums with the curvy petals. I was certain that this bird had been someone's pet. Clearly he did not belong on the street with the pigeon riff raff. Nevertheless, to his credit, I was unable to detect the slightest bit of attitude on his part - no preening about, no swagger - just the same head-bobbing, herky, jerky gait as the rest of the birds. Likewise, the other pigeons never gave any special treatment to their more glamorous companion. In fact, they seemed oblivious to his superior good looks. I couldn't help but think that we humans would do well to imitate their indifference to appearances.
Returning home, I made one more noteworthy find. I discovered the upper portion of a clown doll impaled on the post of a roadside fence. The clown looked remarkably like Chucky the psycho, knife-weilding doll of movie fame. Lucky for me his eyes had been removed - enucleated, as they say in medicine. Otherwise, I would have convinced myself he was staring at me, trying to memorize my face. If that were the case, and let's say, someday he were to be miraculously reunited with his lower half, he could then find me and chase after me with his stubby legs. Of course, it's unlikely he'd catch me - fleet-footed, chetah that I am. Still, you never know. As I rode away from my bifurcated friend I glanced over my shoulder, and was relieved to find that his head hadn't turned in my direction. The remainder of my ride was uneventful.
Well, there you have it - gentle reader. Those are the things I saw on my morning bike ride. When I returned home I tucked into a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, (easy over with the yolks broken, and a dash of ketchup), home fries, toast and marmalade, and two delicious cups of coffee. Nothing like a little exercise to whet the appetite.
See ya! Glen
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