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oh, the angry lady

So we were visiting the gorillas at the Bronx zoo. It was that amazing-weather-Saturday a few weeks ago that punctured a hole in the earlobe of Spring, which has since closed up, of course. And since the sun was doing its thing on this particular day, lots and lots of people were at the zoo, parents constantly pointing out the animals to their helpless children, you know, as if little Haley or Ashton was blind and dumb, “Is that a zebra? Look sweetie! Does that zebra have stripes?”

We were in the second of the main gorilla viewing rooms, the narrower of the two. It was super-packed. I was reminded of that scene in Jaws 4 when they’re in that shark tunnel and the glass gets punctured, chaos ensues, death, blood, etc. Ricky and I were in the way back, hugging the glass wall, trying to breathe, when a scenario unfolded involving a woman who, for the purposes of this blog and good old-fashioned hyperbole, I’ve dubbed “the angry lady.” She was standing in front of us a ways, when someone pushing a wheelchair went by her, apparently clipping her on the heel. Needless to say, the Angry Lady flipped her muffins!

“My foot! My foot!” She cried. The man pushing the wheelchair stopped, apologized profusely. “Jesus Christ! You could have taken my entire leg off!” She said this right to the person pushing the wheelchair and the woman in the wheelchair herself, who presumably couldn’t walk. They apologized some more then wheeled away. But the Angry Lady had not finished her impressive display. “Why are they bringing that thing in here?” She whined to her husband and son. I looked at Ricky amazed, uncertain whether “that thing” referred to the wheelchair or the less-than-human disabled person in the wheelchair.

And she kept it up for a good 5 minutes or so, extracting every once of pity possible from her family (who I was quietly pitying). “No I’m ok, it just hurt a lot,” she assured them like a trooper. And we, Ricky, myself and the pregnant gorilla behind the glass just shook our heads thinking, “Some people.”

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haiku mondays

I knew this guy who
had acid-reflux so bad
he shat out his mouth

*About this poem: This poem is entirely false. Entirely. I’ve never known any “guys” with “AR” – but I hope it goes without saying that I wish I did. Nonetheless, this disease is real and it hurts people, like every second. Happy Monday!

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