(no subject)

[wickedflea]

I was eating lunch next to a table of four ole mailmen, and I swear to jebus that their only topic of conversation was dawg attacks. Apparently the problem is worse than any of us feared. I could hear the fear and anger in their voices. I heard one old dude say, "That damn dawg is a lowlife piece o' trash, and I still would like to git my hands on him."

It was engrossing conversation--I couldn't even stay focused on my newspaper.