time out, time outside, time ousted.

hey neighbors!
i think i might be getting the hang of outdoor autumn leafy hazardous fire times.
hmmm?
oh.
wettish wood spits hot fire and flammable incendiary sparks in every direction,
and when the whole of the woodsly goodness is fallen leaves,
and almost every tree has been laid bare already,
that's basically a blanket of combustion waiting for one ember to ignite
and excite the whole of the forest in a wall of blazing barbarian rangnarok.
ha.
also,
it means that i feel compelled to have a fire,
and fly in the face of imminent immolation,
with the woodsmoke wafting into my eyes as i cry tears of irritation, and joy,
at the perfection of a november night with crabby and ampy-d.
yeah.
check the teleport:

awwwww.
fire is good for you, i think.
unless you're crabtree,
because in that case,
you'd much rather dig a dirt-hole and eat roots.
but,
then again, he's just a dumb baby,
and he doesn't know about that real real hottness yet.
but he will.
anyway,
he and i have been hanging out super hard,
at home, at work, on walks, in the car,
basically everywhere all the time,
it's crabby crabby crabby always in my face.
you'd think he'd want ten seconds to himself-
however,
as soon as i sit down, where that little duder at?
right up my A*-hole, metaphorically.
teleport:

awwwww.
he's just right here. at every available instance;
in the way, greedy for some grabs and scratches.
i would've imagined he'd be a bigger beggar for some sandwich scraps,
but then again,
since i am not the type to give table-top people food to pups,
he may never know about how totally uncool that is.
i really hope that i can maintain enthusiasm and attentive energy for my little man.
anybody can have a regular dog,
but i want a mutha-flippin' expert shark-bullet battle-beast.
y'know?
i'll span as much time together with this small croco'gator as i have to
in order to instill the virtues of warrior poetry
into the daily training regimen i've got going on.
ha.
i don't know if he's the best idea i've ever had.
in fact, i'd wager he's only in the top twenty percent, really....
he's here, though,
and it's happening,
and we're going to be the best team on the field,
because not being dope is not an option.
so,
it's more scheduling conflicts and time-management debacles for the foreseeable future,
and so many hot turds hidden amongst the leaves, too.
there's hazards to this happy homestead now,
beyond the ailing, aging, failing structure.
ha.
*
at least there's still sandwiches.
y'know?
yeah.
check the teleport:

yum.
a bagel sandwich?
mmhmmm.
it seems so obvious, i'm sorta surprised i took so long to tune one up.
cukes, pea tendrils, veg'bacon, hummus, and celery.
simple,
whole wheat ancient-grain goodness, too.
whoa.
wait.
that's the name they gave it, not me.
take it easy.
-
there's dog everywhere.
toys, poops, treats, leashes, leads, collars, clickers, and cages.
i don't hate it.
there's sandwiches everywhere else.
that's real.
and i don't hate that, either.
in fact,
i LOVE it.
i could eat sandwiches for a month,
but i think my big fay bellyhole,
and my sloppy old man buttcheeks would suffer
an insurmountable spate of saggy supersaturation.
i'm tellin' you-
i can't eat as much as i'd like to,
because i'll expand to ten times the size i'm accustomed to.
or maybe even eleven times the size.
i mean, i DO looooooooove sandwiches, after all.
however, re-fattying-up can't be allowed to pop off.
too much is the right amount, except for fat dudes.
less of that is measurably better.
*
alas-
this is it, i s'pose.
shark gluttony and shark bullets;
night fires, and night outings into the windy woodsly goodness,
with a headlamp for increased visibility in the benighted forest realm;
and a pocketful of yappy's dog treats,
that delicious liver-and-tuna taste........with just a hint of cheese.
EW!
that's NOT real,
but,
if you know what movie that's from,
you've passed a major test,
and we are absolutely good friends.
alright,
that'll do;
never quiet, never soft.....