Loathing

Hi, my name is John and I suffer from ALPS.

(Someone yells “It’s not suffering!”)

For me it is. It’s really hard for me to be here. I mean, it’s not like it’s even going to help me to share… it won't make my life less pathetic... you know, maybe I’ll just let someone else get up…

(He starts to get down but changes his mind after a chorus of encouraging voices urge him back to the podium.)

Fine. I’ll tell my story. Thank you for your support. I suppose I might as well get this over with.

So, uh, anyhow, let me just say something first.

I hate dogs. I really and truly hate them. A lot of folks probably think that’s unnatural… but heck, I think YOU’RE unnatural for liking them.

I mean – really! Who ever thought it was a good idea to start bringing large hairy carnivores into their houses? I can understand keeping a dog outside for protection… but to let it into your HOME? It’s nasty. They crap in the yard, then come sit on your furniture inside. They eat your food, beg, lick people, sniff crotches… seriously, it’s gross. It’s dirty. And the hair all around the house? And the SMELL? Ever smell a house full of dogs? It’s like entering the antechamber of hell.

(someone in the audience coughs self-consciously)

And actually, in ancient Israel, I think dogs were like considered to be an unclean and loathsome animal. And those were GOD’S people, you know? I’m with them. I can’t stand dogs. Okay… all that is background.

One day I was jogging at the park, doing my regular rounds. Fitness used to be a big thing for me before I had ALPS. And now it’s like… whatever. My muscles don’t need the toning like they used to. So I’m running along, having just finished my first mile, and I hear a bark and some rustling in the bushes beside the path. I figure, oh geez, some jerk has let their dog off its leash again… so I speed up… and yup, here comes a dog. It’s snarling and foaming… a HUGE dog, like a German Shepherd mixed with horse… so I’m like… trying to get away… and SNAP, man it totally takes a CHUNK out of my calf!

And I’m like… you BITCH!!!

(John looks around the room.)

It’s okay, see, female dogs are called bitches. So I can say that. It’s like, a, uh, technical term, you know?

(“We know. Get back to the story.”)

Sorry. So, I’m there on the ground, bleeding and the dog is nowhere to be seen. Gone. And I’m thinking about how much life stinks and how much I hate dogs and all that…

Well, I had NO idea.

About a month later, I’m up early and I’m out front watering the lawn. We had some water restrictions thanks to a slight drought, so there are only certain windows of time, you know, where you can water, and my dwarf pomegranate was looking a little parched…

(Someone sighs loudly)

Okay, I’m rambling a little. Sorry. So, I’m out there with the hose and I smell something. Like… a rich, strong, earthy urine smell. I know, it’s disgusting. But I’m compelled by it. There’s a little spot at the corner of my yard, a little rosebush, and that’s the source. Before I know it, I have the overwhelming urge to, you know, go? So I just unzip and let fly.

Then I come to my senses and think… omigosh! Did I just DO that? I look around… no one saw me… but I’m still totally shocked by my own actions.

Then comes the coup de grâce. The newspaper car drives down the road. The guy throws my paper.

And I catch it IN MY MOUTH! Like a dog! I totally couldn’t help it. I saw it in the air one second, and in the next, I had it in my mouth. I see the guy look out the window of the car at me like… WHOA! And I’m feeling sheepish. Or maybe sheep-doggish? Who knows?

Then it hits me like a ton of milk bones. That bite. In the park. That wasn’t a dog! It was a were-dog… no WONDER he was so big. And so fierce.

(“We’re not ALL fierce!” comes the voice of a were-badger.)

Sorry, I know that.

But this guy was. And he passed his doggy nastiness unto me. Did I tell you how much I loathe dogs???

I really, really REALLY hate them!

And now… I hate myself.