WHEN CAMEL TOES ATTACK

  For personal reasons SK has decided to abstain from participating further in this blog. Don't worry. It's all good. Her collaboration on WSSP continues, but it will only be my voice heard on the blog. It's for the best. I can get into it and she seems not to like posting. She's self conscious of her readership. I have no such concerns. So be it. We give each other an out in most situations. Say she wants to go to a birthday party in Brooklyn that features pony rides for adults and I would rather stay on the mountain and dig out my eyeballs out with a dull spoon....no big deal. I kiss her goodbye, tell her to drive safe and be careful of the ponies. They can be mean and unpredictable. Which brings me to another one of her interactions with critters recently. SK fancies herself an expert with critters large and small. You be the judge.

    After a hard day out at WSSP, there we were sitting on the front porch, having a beer, when we spotted a little black and white goat crossing the field. Now, usually this would barely raise an eyebrow, but the little Billy was in the pen with ostriches. As he got closer to the road, the big birds began to circle him, lurching to strike with their  beaks. I barked at the birds and they backed off. SK and I got in the adjacent paddock to herd the goat back towards the running sheds. This paddock contained two camels. SK was smitten. She cooed and scratched the camel's chin. I informed her that they were unpredictable and to be careful. She dismissed my concern and continued her camel foreplay. "They are sooooo cute." she squealed. 

   The little goat disappeared in the ostrich shed and and i returned to SK and her worked up camel. You ever seen a camel's member? It's as long as your arm and purple as Geezus. SK didn't seem to notice as she goo-goo eyed the beast and pranced back towards the house. What happened next is kind of a blur. All I remember is the camel rearing up on his back legs and....I don't know what was on his mind, but all I could think of was those videos of animals stomping the shit out of some dumb fuck, unlucky enough to be in the way. SK ran. I screamed. The camel kept coming.

Later on that evening I recounted the whole affair to my brother Bird. SK sat on the porch rubbing her bruised arm and side. "I knew something was wrong," SK explained to Bird, "when I felt his foot on my arm." Bird raised his eyebrow. "Honey, that was no foot."