Hellion

Michael Hellion arrived home with his empty stainless steel coffee mug/thermos and freshly stained khaki pants. What happened said his wife Emily. Oh you wouldn’t believe the most unpleasant women and her pack of muddy curs I had the misfortune to encounter on my walk-about.

Your pants Michael. What happened said Emily.  Well there I was walking in the woods down a simply lovely path toward a creek crossing when; not one but three large unruly dogs came charging up towards me. Not a leash on any of them. And I’m surprised they even had collars. In any case the prime offender was this muddy ragamuffin of a dog who jumped up onto my new Khakis. I can’t believe it. I just bought them for the trip and this happens. Well he was about to come at me again when I put my hands off to ward off another assault. It was then I saw her.  “Mr. Hamilton” she called out. She was a disheveled hulk of a woman with simply awful sack-ish jeans and a filthy old black nearly brown-gray jacket. She knelt to corral Mr. Hamilton.

What a name, really. She probably named him after that presumptuous new hip hop play that is getting all of that attention. She probably doesn’t even know who Alexander Hamilton was. Oh and then, honestly, she has the temerity to ask, offer that is to pay to have my pants cleaned. As if I would allow her to clean anything of mine. Oh Emily she was awful. Just as I was informing her that her dogs really needed to be on leash, she cut me off and said she was “quite sure” there was no such ordinance. It was all I could do not to tear into her about etiquette. But I held my tongue and simply said what’s done is done and walked on. Honestly I have half a mind to check on that ordinance. Oh Michael don’t said Emily, those dogs and her walks in the woods may be all she has. Your right said Michael. “There but for the grace of god go I” right.