I begin to suspect that it may be illegal to ride a gigantic stuffed animal in public.

I crossed the path of a police officer today. I was headed North; he south. About a block after he passed me, he made a rather abrupt u turn. I thought about it for a moment and decided that it was a possibility that he was coming to investigate my unusual ride.

I was less than thoroughly comfortable with being inspected more closely; and the giant stuffed horse I was riding seemed to be of the same opinion.

So we made the next right. This put us on the road to the library. Fine. I like the library. Perhaps the horse will, too.

I know what you're thinking. "How can you be so sure that the officer was looking for you?"

I'll tell ya:

1) He was headed South.
2) Shortly after seeing my trusty steed and me, he was no longer headed South. He was, however, still headed in a direction parallel to mine.
3) At the same road where I began to head West, so did he.
4) As he drove by Tonto, he was moving so slowly that had he lost any speed at all he'd have been going East.

What? Where was I when he drove by? In the library, of course. Abandon Tonto? No, he didn't want to go in... something about libraries having strict "no animal" rules. I tried to tell him that he's not a real horse and I know for a fact that this library (at least) does not have a rule against gigantic stuffed horses. In fact, they have one that resides there. Then he began ranting about how I was going to trade him in a new horse because I didn't "love" him. And how if I did "love" him, he'd be a real horse by now and this whole illegal riding thing would be a moot point.

Oh. You weren't thinking, "How can you be so sure that the officer was looking for you?" You were thinking, "Where the hell did you get a gigantic stuffed horse?"

Well, that is because I know this girl who will do anything for a gigantic stuffed animal.

I was at a yard sale today run by a morbidly obese lady with gaps in her teeth, food on her (navel rubbing) fun bags, gas leaking from one part of her or another, and two beautiful daughters who apparently have never met a stranger before. I'll give $5 to the first person who can explain truly hideous people having darling children without resorting to any discussion of recessive genetics or adoption. As I attempted to extricate myself from their yard (the blender was "in the house" and I was welcome to come inside) before I lived my own way through Dylan's "Motorpsycho Nitemare" when I fairly stumbled over Tonto the wonder steed.

Laying there like a fuzzy rug to be, he promised visions of much, much depravity for me. I had to have him.

I said, "How much?" Jabba the mom said, "I'll throw it in with the blender, if you come on in and get it." So I pulled out the $20 bill I'd been keeping in my pocket for the last week without quite knowing why I'd gone to the trouble of folding it into the form of a paper airplane, tossed it at her, lept astride the horse (who I immediately wanted to name Silver, so I could say... well, you know..., but I decided he was far too kemosabe for all of that) and away we went.

Two blocks later, we passed a policeman driving in the other direction.

I think you know the rest.