Chips.

Following a weekend of exploration and moderate to heavy bar hopping, I felt like Woody the dog deserved a good walk. With three tennis balls, the ChuckIt launcher and a pocket full of Milk Bones, we headed for Bernal Hill. Having wrecked picnics before, I was cautious as we approached the east end of the mound. I could see kite flyers, GoPro videographers and romantic evening drinkers, so I knew there was going to be food around. Within a few short minutes, Woody found his victim.

She was in her early 20s, happily scribbling in her journal with a bottle of beer and joint. Alone and friendly, she greeted us with a sincere smile. The perfect target. With incredible accuracy and determination, Woody snagged a bag of chips tucked underneath one of her knees. Acting as if he’d caught something that needed its neck broken, he flailed the specially blended, secret recipe, organic sea salt chips—guaranteed to give you orgasmic pleasure—all over the ground and attacked them one by one until he’d eaten every last one.

I stood by with my face in the palms of my hands.

I went through the standard procedure. Apologize. Make a joke. Talk about being a bad parent. Apologize again. Run like hell.

Thirty minutes later, we walked by a second time.

“So sorry about the chips…I wish I had something to give you to replace them,” I said in a pathetic tone.

“No big deal…they were actually pretty gross. Now, if you had some GOOD chips to give me that would be AWESOME,” she responded with a sarcastic grin.

That’s when I decided Woody and I were on a mission. Our objective was simple—we were going to the corner market to buy a bag of Kettle Chips so we could bring balance back to the world.

Roughly ten minutes later, the mission was accomplished. I delivered a fresh bag of salty goodness to our friend and we spoke for a minute or two. Feeling redeemed, I heard someone yell, “NO! NO! Don’t do that,” and I was fairly certain it had something to do with the mischievous black lab from Missouri.

In the distance, Woody was mounting a pit bull with a pink collar and he was about to lose an ear. I rushed over, pulled him off, snapped on his leash and put my face back in the palms of my hands where it felt comfortable.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: