Yet I still decided to go down the street and buy a few carrots.
It's a small town.
Gloomy, quiet.
I stepped into my slippers and walked slowly down the street with my dog.
Near the vegetable market, a little boy with brownish-black hair, scratching a coin-sized mosquito bag on his shoulder, clutching a condom-blown balloon in his hand, squatted on the side of the road, looking puzzled.
I walked past him and stopped. He looked up, grabbed the mosquito bag, and said, "I know what you want."
I smiled and said, "And what are you going to do?"
He: "Life is hard, really hard."
I: "But sometimes it's better to eat a little bitter to defeat the fire, and too much sweet food can cause diabetes."
He: "Uh-huh."
I nodded in understanding and kicked him to the ground, taking the balloon with me.
My dog came up and licked the boy's shoulder, and I suspect he licked the mosquito bag. But that doesn't matter.
I continued on, and a square dance team was just ahead of me, the loud speakers empty and silent.
The women and men were pale and stiff, making ritualistic prostrations.
I waved my hand impatiently, and they scattered around like a swarm of ants, terrified. A woman in a large red cotton robe looked back at me.
I knew they couldn't wait any longer.
The road, this stretch from my front door, to the vegetable seller, was short.
I, however, was unusually tired of walking, it was all so boring, and the dog and I looked at each other, and we knew we were both tired of it, and the dog's eyes looked away, and at that moment it might not be my dog anymore, it was just the dog.
The owner of the vegetable store was naked, crossing her thighs as she cooled herself on a small stool in front of the store. Her white hand gently shook a greasy bushel fan.
"I came to buy carrots."
"The carrots are on the run."
"What happened?"
"You know ...... he asked me for a spoon ...... and then he dug a tunnel and escaped."
"Why would you give him a spoon?"
"He ......" The boss man's eyes averted. "He said he was going to make me a butter cake once ...... You know, he's from the big city, and in a small town like ours, where do you ever eat butter cake!" She wailed.
I yanked her by the hair and picked her up off the little stool, and she suddenly cackled like a hen.
"I lied to you, the carrots are right there, already washed and cut into pieces, go get them."
I sulked, went in and chose a few segments of carrots that were in decent shape and tucked them in my arms.
"This one's for you." I threw the condom balloon at her, my dog looked at me fixedly and seemed a little angry, however I ignored it.
The tip of the boss lady's RU flushed as she smiled petulantly and barfed that balloon a kiss, continuing to cross her legs as she made her way to the small stool. There seemed to be fireflies fluttering in the black jungle between her legs.
I scrambled out of the grocery store.
As I dragged my dog home, a backhoe knocked me over.
I knew that I was going to die.
My dog pawed through my arms and pulled out the sections of perfectly good carrot and ate them all, croaking them, scattering carrot crumbs all over the place.
What a waste.
It's a waste, I thought.
In the distance, the women of the square dance team suddenly showed their yellowed teeth and rushed like the boy down the street.
The boy, perhaps, is dead.