Sunday, 12 June 2011

Wednesday 8th Fear has a name...

And it is Marissa.

I made up a joke more for my own amusement than yours, but here it is:

Person ''a' is counselling person 'b' on the importance of courage.
a- “If I let fear hold me back, I’d never leave the house.”
b- “Why, are you afraid of everything?”
a- “No, just of the dog that lives downstairs!”

Marissa is the dog that lives in the courtyard under our apartment.


Don't be fooled by her cute, fluffy appearance. She's mean and she does not like me. Every time I try to leave or enter the house, she growls, barks and pursues. And she has a taste for human blood. She's bitten a few people up to date, and I’m afraid that I’ll be next.

I went to the hospital to visit Asilah this afternoon, but it took me hours to work up the courage to face Marissa. By the time I made it down the stairs I was shaking and nauseous. Says she who has faced lions and heights, the Congo and shark/dolphin infested waters, the cruel 10 month Exeter winter and her dad's dubious cooking...

I’m afraid for my life. Well, for my ankles at least.

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