I just had pretty much the most awkward conversation in my life just moments ago, in my backyard, with my neighbor, who I've spoken to maybe twice in eight years.
Neighbor: *from behind fence, so all we can see of one another is each others faces* Hey, you haven't had any stray cats crawling through your yard, have you?
Me: *looking at my open door, making my music very audible from inside the house before turning to my neighbor* No... Why?
Neighbor: Oh. The woman across the street let her cat out, and she hasn't seen it in a few days.
Me: Oh. Well. No. I don't think we've had any cats. Hopefully not. We had an eagle back here last week. *Smiling in a friendly manner*
Now, that doesn't sound that awkward, but it was approximately at this time that he curled his neck over my end of the fence, making it visible to my neighbor that I was urinating on the fence with a flyswatter in my hand.
Me: *trying to make the situation less awkward* But... I'm sure it'll be fine...
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
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