The Story of Random Things

I was walking with the green grocery bag in hand filled with whatever food my friend had stuffed in it for her pending temporary absence. You must finish it, she concluded with a grin before I leave the house. I grimaced when I looked at the thigh fillet, sausages, and roasted chicken. Still I took them, resigned with my meat-filled menu for the rest of the week.

On my other hand is a paper bag, filled with magazines of current and previous subscriptions. I hope to read them in my spare time. My aim is to find affordable artworks, for the little project I'm thinking of back home.

From afar I saw the old man came out from his house. I talked to him once, and I've already forgotten his name. But I never forget his house. The friendliest house in the district, with blooming and colourful flowers flooding the front porch. It reminded me of a fairy tale cottage. He was followed by a little Havanese with a dirty brown fur and he has a cigarette in his hand. Clad in his typical sweater and slack apparel and a beret in his head, he looked as content as any little boy in his play time.

Hello!, I bellowed as I approached him. He turned around and flashed a big smile at me. Good afternoon, it's a nice day. He greeted me with his deep Italian accent. We talked about the weather, my shopping bags and his dog Kareena before I continued my walk home.

***

Hey, come here and look!, my housemate nudged at my elbow. Quietly he took me to the lounge. There he was, pecking on our carpet as if it was the ground. His little feet still sore from whatever accident he had had the days before. I rushed to the kitchen, took out a slice of bread, and began throwing them bit by bit on the backyard. Let's call him Poopy. We decided later on. Because he pooped so much on the floor of our backyard, and because it was the name of cute Greek guy in the latest movie we watched the night before, Poopy Carcass.

***

I was having my breakfast when I saw her walking quietly in the backyard. Hello!, I called to her excitedly. She looked up, surprised at the greeting. But when she saw me, she continued her quest, unsurprised. She was checking out the bread I left out for Poopy, but clearly she wasn't interested. Hey, are you hungry? I asked her, but still she seemed to feign no interest to my offer. I laughed at her cheekiness, so I walked to the fridge and took out one of the sausages my friend had left for me.

She was already nowhere in sight, but I walked straight to the backyard and I called out her name while dangling the sausage in my hand. Angie, I've got a sausage for you. I sang her name. There was a ruffle in the grass at my feet. I squatted down and there she was, looking at me wide-eyed, full of hope for the sausage in my grasp.

Angie, come here. I called out to her again. This time I put out my hand closer to her, she didn't budge from her place, but she held out her head and started licking the sausage. There you are, I laughed to myself. Now we've finally met.