We cut between two buildings to get to St. Clair. There was this slightly frothy puddle in the ally.
"Careful, don't walk in that", he said, a gentlemen-like warning. "Looks like someone took a leak".
"I don't know why, but I was thinking it was a drool puddle."
He looked at me, like what?
"I know. I don't get it either. I was picturing Clifford the Big Red Dog or something." I shrugged.
He laughed like he got it. I wondered how.
Just now as I was writing, I heard this sound from somewhere down on the street. At first I thought it was a woman, or women plural, screaming. It was agony, I was sure of it. I got a glimpse of it and it was bad...until it wasn't.
In a millisecond I knew it was music blaring from a passing car. That's all. But it could have gone either way; about as likely as a big red dog drool puddle.
Nothing's impossible. We should all know that by now.