Pet Shop

I love pet shops. I really do. Especially the dogs - for some reason I love dogs. Dogs, puppies, all kinds of dog. And so, the other day, with the girlfriend, I went to the pet store at the local mall, and while she stared at fish, I contentedly watch the puppies play-fight and sleep and generally do puppy things. It was at this point that an older gentleman, of stout build, said hello to me. I nodded and said hi back, thinking nothing of it.

He then advised me to never cut my hair. Okay. Then he continued talking. Well, rambling really, about how long hair doesn't mean you're a bad person and that you're still who you are with hair or whatever. I quickly realized he was a little nutty. He confirmed this by going on about how he was sixty-eight and loved young people. Okay. So I was a little nervous now, but not enough to really care. So I sort of vacantly maintained the illusion of listening as he waffled about akitas and his niece's akita and how they're great hunting dogs and companions and blah blah blah blah blah. Eyes glazing over.

Eventually I told him I had to run, as my girlfriend was waiting. And he said okay, bye now, and as I turned to walk towards the back of the pet store, he patted me on the ass and left.

If you ask me what I did last Saturday, I will remember close to nothing, except for the sixty-eight-year-old man who touched my ass.

I do not recommend it.