The nearest Starbucks to my house is either a couple miles up the freeway (which is a terrible idea between 7:30 and 8:30am, since I only want a damn coffee and not two hours in traffic for three miles), or a fairly meandering twisty series of roads through an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Of course, I take the twisty roads, because i’m already cranky (hello, no coffee) and don’t usually want to deal with people in much of any capacity in the morning.
Of course, residential roads through upper-middle-class neighborhoods mean many people who seem to work off-hour schedules or just don’t work at all: there are plenty of dog walkers, joggers, and too-tight-for-your-age-yoga-panted-middle-aged-women speed-walking in the morning. But today…
Today I saw a velociraptor. (by the way, my spellchecker wants to change “velociraptor” to “Velocipede” which is A BAZILLION TIMES MORE TERRIFYING* in my brain. Fuck you, spellchecker).
Anyway, this morning I passed a guy jogging comfortably (meaning, he was neither sweating profusely nor was his face red nor was he panting like he was going to die: in fact, he jogged EXACTLY opposite of how I jog) along the sidewalk in his baggy pants and oversized t-shirt. His clothes hung loosely on a pretty tall and lanky body. He ran with his head unaligned to his body: ie, it was leading the rest of the body by sticking forward just a little.
And he held his arms at a 90 degree angle with his hands dangling limp, waving a little with his movement.
You guys, he reminded me of a toothless, pasty white, bald velociraptor who’d missed a few meals.
Or a large chicken with mange? Do birds get mange? I bet not…whatever makes chickens lose their feathers. He was a featherless bird with no beak and floppy forearms. So yeah, velociraptor.
Hmm. Reminded is a poor word choice: it implies I’ve SEEN a toothless, pasty white, bald, skinny velociraptor. In point of fact, I have not. I’d like to, maybe, but only from a distance. With a large fence, and maybe a herd of cows, between us.
Um, he evoked the image in my broken brain. Let’s go with that.
I ran track in junior high (that’s 7th and 8th grade for those of you who have no fucking idea what I mean by “Jr high” because idiot school districts now call that “middle school” for some ridiculous reason). I remember the rules about not clenching my hands into fists while I’m running, which always seemed unnatural to me, since I rather like my hands in fists…
It’s easier to fight off starving velociraptors if I’m prepared. And, as YouTube tells us, Velocirpators are assholes.
Ok, obviously this post is getting out of control and it’s probably time to stop and do actual work. I just wanted to say…googling images of velociraptor arms was rather surprising and occasionally disturbing. I can’t say I recommend it, but now that you’ll probably do it anyway make sure you look for the standing bear with chain saws on his arms…because that TOTALLY makes sense and belongs in a velocirpator images page.
*Ah, also, it’s completely ok to google “velocipede”. Not what I assumed at all, which really just says a lot about what’s wrong with my brainpan.