The Quest For Black Huaraches

           

             I was standing on the corner waiting for the light to change. I was on my continuing quest for black huaraches. 

            There was a man standing next to me. I glanced over at him. As I looked, he looked at the same time. The man shot backwards and recoiled in attempt to move away from me as though he'd seen a demon. The first thing I thought of was, whoa, I have bad energy. I took it personally, because that's the kind of man I am.
            The light changed. I let the man walk ahead of me. He was carrying two plastic bags and he kept looking over his shoulder as he walked. We crossed the street and he was still looking over his shoulder. Oh okay, he's a paranoid schizophrenic. A sense of relief overcame me. I don't have demon energy after all. It's him not me. Phew.

Hotdogs In My Pockets

            I was out the other night and there was a lull in the conversation, so I turned to my friend and said, I like to stuff my pockets with hot dogs and walk around my neighborhood at night to attract coyotes. 
             He thought I was serious. Really? He asked.
             I get a rush out it. I told him. 
             He believed me until I fessed up and told him I was messing with him. 
             I'm not sure why the image of a pocket full of hot dogs is funny to me. A pocket full of hot dogs at a dog park is even funnier. What if I stuffed my pockets with hot dogs and went to a dog park? The dogs would be all over me. I'd be the Pied Piper of dogs. They'd follow me wherever I'd go. And their owners would think I had the magic with dogs. They just love that man. I'd have five or six dogs following me at all times. Look, I'd hear somebody say, that man's some kind of dog genius.