March 7, 2003
Col. Horrace felt something snap today. A lot of things he'd failed to address ganged up and demanded a reaction. Now, Col. Horrace walks his usual beat through the neighborhood, wondering if he'll involuntarily beat the shit and guts out of the next stranger who solicits eye contact. A bottle-blonde passes, tugging at her dog's tattered leash. Her dog is barking, growling, slobbering and lunging. Her dog locks gazes with Col. Horrace. Bingo. Meeting of the minds. The colonel wondered whether beating one stranger senseless would make him feel better for a few years. Now he's thinking about something else.