This evening, I was hiking on the trail near my place of residence with Bess. It’s a lovely trail with very few people. But sometimes, there are Scary Forest People. Today, we came across Scary Forest Man. I’ve seen him before. He was alone. This time, he was stopped in the middle of the trail (annoying) and stared at me as I approached (creepy). Here is what he kind of looked like:
His dogs were tied to the same leash, but he wasn’t holding onto it, so they were like erratic dog nunchucks.
Scary Forest Man then said unnecessarily loudly, “You two have similar bodies!”
This was probably the weirdest possible way of saying that Bess and I are both tall and skinny (and white?).
I said “Yep, that’s why I chose her.” Which is not really true, but sometimes I don’t know what to say.
Scary Forest Man said “Yeah that’s also why I chose my dogs: they’re short and fat.”
I didn’t really know how to respond to this either, especially because his dogs weren’t short or fat, so laughed nervously and said, “Ok bye bye.”
He then started following me and Bess as we walked away, talking to me as though the conversation was still going.
“Yeah, I got me another dog in the pound,” he said.
“Why’s it in there?” I asked.
“It? It aint no ‘it’. He’s a HE.”
“HE bit someone. They complained to the cops. Asshole.”
I wanted to point out the incorrect grammar, but I also didn’t want the conversation to continue. Although, it would have been pretty satisfying to have a purely verbal argument with a Forest Person over grammar.
So I ran into the woods.
I haven’t seen him since, but I’m worried about his dogs, the asshole, and about seeing him again.