That's bad luck, isn't it?

I was looking out the window. I do a lot of that. I could see this woman walking past, down on the street. She smelled like a fish market. It isn't normal, smelling a woman from two floors up, is it?

She had a dog with her. One of those little poof dogs, part fluff and part muppet. The kind that looks like you ought to shove a stick up its butt and run it across the floor like a mop. It had a red jacket on. Supposed to be cute, I guess.

I wanted to punt the pooch. Like a football, you know? I could see the little mutt sailing over the telephone wires, like a field goal. I kept feeling that urge, like I wanted to make it real. Like it was pictures in my mind. I couldn't turn them off. I kept looking out the window, picturing that dog sailing ass over flea collar, just waiting to hear the mutt land.

Then I looked away, and saw myself in the mirror. I didn't look any worse than usual, but it still kinda takes me off guard, even now. Pisses me off.

That's when the mirror got broken.

Mom is going to be so pissed.

I'm going to look for the woman tomorrow.