2004-07-29 � Baboon Butt

Backyard Butchery and the Wolf

Once, when I was a kid, my mom cut my bangs whilst we were in the middle of some passionate battle about some stupid-ass kid thing that I had done. I don't remember specifically what my particular crime was then... maybe it was the time I used my Easy Bake oven to melt my brother's green plastic army men into freeform sculptures and started a little fire. It was just a little one, teeny really, but O! the fireworks erupting from the direction of the parental units! All sorts of shouting about how I was going to burn the house down and my dad running into the kitchen to get a butcher knife and then breathlessly sawing off the electrical cord dangling innocently from my recently unplugged, and still smoldering Easy Bake. Or maybe it was the time I threw an icicle, a long frozen dagger plucked off the eavestrough, at my brother, narrowly missing his eye and costing him an emergency room visit and three stitches.

I don't know...suffice it to say she was mad at me. Really mad. Fuming mad. And she had sissors. And me sitting there, terrified, biting my lip as she hacked away at my bangs, spritzing me vigourously with water between swipes, wondering if I dare question if this was a wise approach to hairstyling. I emerged from her tirade and vicious trimming with bangs about a quarter of an inch long, jutting unbecomingly from my forehead, like some sad little furry blonde awning. It was horrific. Red faced and puffy-eyed, I ignored her profuse apologies and attempts to cajole me as I sobbed and screamed around my soggy clump of tissue that I would never butcher my child like that! Never!

Well, guess what. I just did. I just gave my dog baboon ass! It's hysterical and so, so, so not funny! I just wanted to neaten things up a little back there. Just make it look a little tidy. But a snip, snip here and a snip, snip there, and now she looks like her back end is made out of lego, all black and blocky and so unbecoming. From behind, she looks like something sculpted by Edward Sissorshands. If Edward was drunk and blindfolded, that is. O the horror! the horror!

Jack was rolling on the floor, clutching his innards which were threatening to burst out of him with the hilarity of it all while the Finnster stared at him blankly, cocking her head from side to side and then casting a sidelong glance at me (shrinking in the corner) as if to say, "perhaps we should have him commited?"

Oh, mortification. Thankfully, my dog is no where near as vain as me and what with the kennel cough and all, we're pretty much housebound for the next couple of days anyway. No one will see her baboon ass. And as I promised her emphatically through a mist of tears and hair clumps, "It'll grow back, sweetie! I promise!"

Oy vey. This does not bode well for the weekend.


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