I met Harold, rather, I saw him at the bus stop. At first I deduced that he must have been a student, but then realized he had a badge similar to mine – realistically for a complex similar to mine. We had both been frequenters of the 7:05 out of town. A quiet but graceful nod to each other if one or the other barely made it on time. This had been going on for awhile, but as the weather nicened up, I started to ride my bike to work, and mostly forgot about Harold. I thought about him seldom, sometimes wondering if he was late to work or if he had noticed my own absence on the 7:05 The first few runs were daunting, lost in between traffic and a general confusion of where to go. A few weeks would pass and I would be consistent in my back and forths.
The rides home allowed me to stray from my paths home. If I see an interesting store or event or bar or restaurant or anything at all, I stop and pique my interest. One day, as the ride dampens my clothes, I decide to stop off at a dog clothing store, not that I own a dog, I just want to imagine the kind of people who shop at the dog clothing store.
“Hi, welcome to Pet-cetera” a sparking 20-something year old meowed to me. She was able to convey the spelling in her voice, which was closer to a thing of beauty then to misplaced sexual curiosity.
Feeling lost in my attraction to both the store and the women I reply “Oh. Hi, I don’t own an animal.”
And with that, immediately, the once bright women dissolved into a cackling witch “feel free to look around and ask any questions.” Like a cat does, her disinterest snapped immediately to staring outside the window.
I am unbound from the tyranny of the usefulness of the retail store worker, I am a free animal, unshackled by an owner – fending for myself in a world of pleasure and hate and confusion. I am 32 and really single, probably depressingly so. As I walk around the store, picking things up as though I am curious, I realized that the storefront is obviously much too small for the size of the building. Like getting the first slice of cake before realizing that it’s completely dense in the middle, something else being hidden. The inventory and storefront was shaped like a “U” with the main entrance and clerk located at the bottom of the “U”. However, there was a door on the top left of this informative “U”. My incredible nosiness has never put me in a situation that I regret, so I wait five seconds then enter. The first door was followed by another door. With the first door closed, the light had completely blacked out.
This is where I finally met Harold, or witnessed a dimension of Harold that I hadn’t known existed. Well, rather, I recognized him and he definitely did not see me. Harold was dressed as a chicken, not a fun Big Bird Sesame Street styled chicken, but a BDSM chicken being chased by another human dog. The room was lit only from the top, with complete darkness to those, around. The secondary door acted as a darkness buffer. The highly reflective leather of the two figures outfits squelched as their bodies cavorted under the intensity of the single light, reflecting in undulating splashes of white along muzzle and wing and twinkling polished chain.
“CHIRP CHIRP” He vocalizes.
“BARK BARK.” the pursuant responds.
These two did not make the animalistic noise, but the literal sounds of “chirp” and “bark”. As I watch, I feel a, like, clawing at my shoulder. I look over and see the clerk motion to whisper in my ear.
“I’m sorry, but you being here brings us over the maximum people limit, you can wait outside in the storefront until someone leaves and then you can come back in.”
Chubenn all along 