Monday, August 07, 2006

Shit Out of Luck

I wouldn't say that I'm superstitious, at least not in the knock on wood, salt over your shoulder way. I suppose I believe in luck. I'm not opposed to the supernatural. Neither of those, though, are quite the same as believing you're cursed for seven years if you drop your compact on the sidewalk.

Last week I was assaulted by a bad omen. It was a vicious hexing of fairy tale proportions. It happened late one night last week, when I was walking slightly behind Brad up to the door of our building. He hit the steps without incident. When I got to the garbage cans just to the right of our stoop, a black cat cut right across my path and, not content to simply doom me and leave, sat on the curb and gave me the evil eye until I got inside. That's the kind of superstition it's hard to dismiss--the kind with a pulse and a palpable desire to see you flattened by a dump truck.

The cat hangs out in front of my building now. My super insists it's a sweet kitten made skittish by a run-in with a garbage truck. I have my doubts about this. It's always around when I'm by myself, either taking out the garbage or walking home from work, always sitting there like a creep, occasionally in the shadows, with its two laser eyes focused right on a major artery.

I was feeling pretty doomed all week. I found twenty dollars!...and then had to return it to the people who'd obviously dropped it unawares. I got to go home early on Friday!...because I was sick and had a disgusting, annoying cough.

It wasn't until this morning that I think I found the antidote to a black cat hexing. What black cat in your path is to evil, dog with a cone is to good. On the way back from Starbucks I passed a weird old lady walking an enormous Alaskan husky, with an even more enormous plastic cone circled around its stupid, pissed off head. There is nothing more pathetically funny than a dog in a cone, walking around like the world's hairiest satellite dish, if that satellite dish wanted nothing more than to lick its own ass.

It remains to be seen if my luck changes. Things may be looking up already; Jenny 8. says there's a manatee in the Hudson, and that's pretty great. But at least I'm armed with some kind of mental amulet if Creep the cat is waiting for me outside my door. Or, like, in my bed with a fucking shiv.


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