I was being chauffeured home after a long day at the mosque. We turned down a quiet street, a little more than a mile from the ayatollah compound. The soothing sounds of sports-talk radio filled the cabin of my auto-steed. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a shadowy figure lingering at the edge of a brick wall. Without warning, he stepped forward and hurled a softball-sized object at the pugmobile. Father swerved, and then it hit with a thud on the side of the car. Was this an organized plot against the ministry? Somehow, I thought not. The amateurish nature of this brazen attack seemed like the work of teenage hooligans. We stayed in the vicinity for a while, hoping to flag down one of the SUV-driving police officers who roam the streets of our fair suburb in abundance on every night except the one when they are needed. I wanted nothing more than to see these infidels roughed up, cuffed and sent off to Sing Sing. But they escaped with no repercussions.
It is said that "boys will be boys." But boys will also find their kneecaps broken by a band of club-wielding bulldogs if they are caught messing with the wrong ayatollah’s auto-steed. Keep that in mind, young hoodlums. And know that ARF’s bloodhounds are on your trail.
7 comments:
hi ayatollah, i have added your telethon event to the event calendar. you can check it out now.
wet wet licks
Boo
Thank you, Boo. Peace and wet licks be upon you.
Those hooligans were probably wearing Longhorn hats as well.
I'm just sayin'....
Mama could have been killed or seriously injured when kids threw what was probably a sharp piece of concrete off an overpass on a busy highway several years ago.
Dad was driving a Ferrari convertible and the concrete hit the metal car frame only inches above Mama's head.
Dad chased down the closest policeman who, when told what had happened, said, "Oh, those kids again!"
A week later a woman was killed in the same location when a chunk of broken concrete hit her windshield causing her to lose control of her car.
When neighborhood hooligans don't have the sense to realize how deadly a prank can turn and the authorities don't make an effort to intervene, sometimes the result is tragic.
Be careful, Bro. Mugsy...it's good your hooligans weren't playing with a gun.
J. B.
Obviously the thugs were unaware of your importance. Thank dogness you are alright.
Pugsley, Buster, Cricket and little Daisy
How does a club-wielding bulldog swing it?
I did not get a good look at any headwear, TransplantedOkie. But that may be a safe assumption.
Amen, J.B.
Thank you, Pugsley, Buster, Cricket and Daisy.
With his mouth, Pappy.
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