When Animals Attack

I went for a run in Prospect Park around 9pm tonight. For the most part, the park is well-lit, especially in the summer when there are concerts going on. But there was one stretch, just before the big hill, where a few street lights were knocked out tonight, presumably as a result of this afternoon's storm. I was busy trying to be a bad ass (also, trying to maximize the burrito I ate for lunch by running hard) as I came up to that stretch. In fact, I had just chicked a shirtless dude and was feeling pretty awesome about it as I powered up the hill ahead of him, careful to hold perfect running form and  suck in my cellulite   flaunt my body which was basically designed for shorts shorts while he checked me out, which he did, obviously.



It was love.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, I was attacked.




A horrifying , rabid, possum-like creature came out of nowhere, slinking from the darkness directly at my ankles. I was so busy being an ideal running specimen that I didn't even notice until it was upon me. Using my quick-thinking skills and channeling my high school indoor track 55m hurdle prowess, I leaped over the creature just in the nick of time.




Unfortunately, I simultaneously let out the most high pitched, girlish squeal, followed immediately by a string of vulgarities that would intimidate a sailor, let alone a shirtless runner in Prospect Park. I was so rattled by both my animal encounter and subsequent reflexive response that before I knew it, the shirtless man was shaking his head and laughing as he passed me back and headed off into the night, never to be seen again.




True love waits? Or sprints ahead and leaves you to get rabies. Either or.