When the weather changes my paw start to hurt me cuz of my arthritis that I got from too much digging around for fish bones and shit at the bottom of trash cans and in the dirt, which is were people generally get rid of the kind of stuff that I like to dig up and eat, or at least chew on. When my paw start hurting me it also reminds me of the first time it happened, and by that I mean the first time I hurt my paw. I was making my way out of a sewer vent, just finishing up a bottle of Turkey, and loving the spinny and tingley feelings that went with that, when I came upon a sweet set of throwing stars. Ninja style throwing stars, that were pretty shiny and seemed to be just laying there on the ground for me to find and be awesome with. I found the rest of my gaze and we started to play.
We took turns throwing the shuriken (it’s what they’re called) at as many things as we could; old cans, little rocks, trees, tires, whatever. I noticed no matter how many times I threw them, I never hit what I was aiming at, and neither did the rest of the gaze. We decided that what we needed was practice, so we took turns holding things on our heads so that the other two could throw the shuriken at them. I started with a can on my head and right off the bat, “thunk”, and I’ve got and eighth pound of ninja steel stuck in my paw.
I screamed, which scared my other two, which scared me, so we all ran in circles for about 4 minutes and then hid behind random sticks and shit. When the smoke cleared I took the “treasure” that I had found and threw them in the river. I threw them in the river because I knew that no matter how much we practiced, we would never get good at them things and that I would keep on getting my paw thunked full of whatever the others threw at me. I knew this cuz I remembered something my old sire told me when I was just a hairless cub. He said, “If’n you ain’t good at somethin’ right off the bat, you might as well throw in the towel and quit. There ain’t no use in ever tryin’ nothin’ ever.” My old sire had a good point, and I took it to heart. You should too.
Lately I heard lots a folks who tried riding one of them there fatbikes for the first time and got their feelings all squishyed by the fact that they weren’t so fast as they were on them mountain bikes. Well guess what, you never will be. It’s a different bike. It’s funny how when you drive a Porsche it goes so much faster than a half-ton pickup, or how much faster that truck is than a tractor. ‘course try to drive that fancy-pants car across the desert, or that truck through a giant muddy field and we’ll see who’s faster. You should do what I did back when I was just a cub, and never do anything that you aren’t awesome at the first time you try it.
‘Course, that was when I was just a cub. When I grewed up, I realized what a bunch of horseshit that was. My daddy, rest his soul, was a coward, but that don’t mean I am, or gotta be too. If I could go back in time I woulda stopped myself from throwin’ them cool-ass ninja stars in the river, and I would have practiced. First, cuz those things are expensive, and second cuz by now I’d be able to skewer a squirrel at nine yards.
So quit or practice, thems your choices to make. It’s up to you, jus remember what old Burpy says. I says, it’s all about the fun, and you can’t have too much a that when you hidin’ under your sheets.
The other thing I say is: Throwing stars are super sweet.
Now go get you some and practice.