This morning I was awakened at 7:08 AM by the sounds of vicious dog barking outside my window, followed by even more savage arguing between two men. “Oh, come on,” I groaned to myself as I glanced over at my alarm clock. This arguing went on, and on. And on. And on and on.

One man, by the sounds of it, certainly should keep his dog on a tighter leash. The other man, by the sounds of it, certainly should not be taking up the entire {expletive} sidewalk. Still, once all the points had been made, and all the insults had been slung, the arguing did not cease. On and on and on the argument continued until I was so alert that finding sleep again was no longer an option. I stumbled out of bed, then walked out onto my balcony to get some fresh air, tired of hearing the fireworks but not getting to see them.

It surprised me to find that one of the men was firmly planted in a red Jazzy. He was probably mid-40s at best. He had what looked like a bag of donuts on his lap. He was the guy who felt strongly about the other man’s dog, as well as the other man’s control of said dog, as well as the other man’s intelligence, as well as the other man’s mother, as well as the other man’s (fill in the blank).

The dog, which now sat by his owner’s side, staring down Jazzy-Man, was about the size of a Pomeranian, and about as pretty as a poodle. Mixed with a rat. Mixed with a possum. Mixed with a box of melted brown and yellow crayons. I have no idea what was up with that dog, but I know that it was a thing I would never want to touch.

More amazing than any of that was coming to the sudden realization that one of the men (and even more astounding, it was the man with the deeper of the two voices) was actually a woman. A butch-cut, stocky, five-foot-nothin’ woman who could probably have torn me limb from limb. She was the guy who felt strongly about the other man’s breach of designated sidewalk space, as well as the other man’s physical rotundness, as well as the other man’s acerebral state, as well as the other man’s (fill in the blank).

It was about the time I noticed that he was a she that she glanced up and noticed me, standing two floors above, my atrocious bed-hair and discombobbled morning demeanor staring intently back at her.

being-watched-from-above

She didn’t move, but her firm presence seemed to jump back a bit as she came to the awareness that she had been being watched. Jazzy Man also looked up, and both said nothing, but kept their gaze on me as if they were trying to calculate just how long I had been there, and just how much I had heard. I was too tired to uncomfortably flinch and simply said, “BOO!” with suddenly wide eyes as the woman and I maintained eye contact.

I don’t know why on Earth I did that… But I couldn’t help but laugh as they both immediately shuffled along on their unmerry ways without another word, unless that is, you count the personal colloquy which could be distantly heard beneath both of their angry, huffy breaths.

The finale for this fireworks show was superb. And I went inside to brew some Columbian goodness.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

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Dan Pearce is an American-born author, app developer, photographer, and artist. This blog, Single Dad Laughing, is what he's most known for, with more than 1.4 million daily subscribers as of 2017. Pearce writes mostly humorous and introspective works, as well as his musings which span from fatherhood, to dating, to life, to the people and dynamics of society. Single Dad Laughing is much more than a blog. It's an incredible community of people just being real and awesome together!