The Lady Who Yelled At Me

Gladys McGillicutty in:

THE LADY WHO YELLED AT ME

Chapter 1: Gladys’ smile could kill a bear!

Once long ago when I was a sprightly young lad, I crossed paths with a crotchety old biotch named Gladys McGillicutty.  She was that type of old lady who had one of them little dogs that kind of looked like her.  She would dress it in the fanciest of hats, which I respected for a while.

Until one day…

Chapter 2: The one day I previously mentioned.

Why do old ladies like rose bushes?  Gladys had hair that resembled that of a lion’s mane.  She would roar like a banshee and chase the smallest of children with a rake.  She had no sould.  She sold her soul to the clerk at Albertson’s when she forgot her coupon for 20 cents off a pie of her choice.  A wise trade?  She seemed to think so.

Kids would often throw eggs at her house, for which she would yell at them and curse them with a mysterious Cajun spell.  One kid claimed that he saw Gladys McGillicutty eat a pineapple whole.  Another kid claims that he saw her get out of a 1982 Buick LeSabre outside of the movie theaters.  She allegedly had gone to see Spy Kids 3D.

Many things Gladys did went without explanation.  Why was there an oil pan in her driveway if she parked the car in the garage? Stupid! Pick that shit up!

Another thing you should know about Gladys is that she only cared for her roses at night.  She believed this to be the correct method for keeping her roses white, and nobody ever bothered to tell her that she had just bought white roses.  This is the same reason she only walked her dog at night, brushed her teeth at night, and waxed her chin at night.

But it was this one particular day in which everything went down the crapper.  You can only take so much of that little dog barking.  It is much like the way you can only take so much of clowns.  They go from slightly amusing to sucking, in a matter of squeaks of the nose.

Gladys and her dog were going down.  And not in that sense, you sick pervert.  How does one oust an annoying dog?  With three pounds of meat and some butterscotch.  And also a lot of time.  It is recommended that you set aside at least eight hours for this.

First I piled the meat in an orderly fashion (that’s what she said) and then I sat and waited.  I waited for that piece of crap dog to catch a whiff of that mighty meat.  It was stacked with pride in that old lady’s back yard.  If you saw this pile of meat from a helicopter or perhaps an aero zeppelin you would sit back and say to yourself, “Wow, that is some fine lookin’ meat.”

Alas!  The small dog appeared from its house, and by “its house” I am referring to the old lady’s house in general.  I hucked the barrel of butterscotch or whatever the hell I said it was earlier at the dog.  A near miss!  All the commotion rousted Gladys from her slumber, in her lumber.  Lumber being her wooden bed.  She came running down her porch stairs and picked up her dog.

“Get the @#$% off of my property!” she yelled.

And that’s the story of the lady who yelled at me.

The End