It was no different than when I used to work there regularly a long, long time ago; parents who decked out their baby strollers in “Renaissancy” handkerchiefs and other pieces of flair to get in the spirit of going to the faire, despite not really doing anything for themselves. We saw these people coming down the hill with the initial horde of patrons for the day, and at first, it was no big deal – just another couple with a decorated stroller for a beautiful day at the faire. But then the Precious poked its head out of the stroller.
Are you kidding me? A fucking dog in a stroller?
Either way, attacking the woman, or Precious is too easy. The target of my criticism immediately goes towards the man of the family; either his wife has a vagina plated in golden velvet, or more likely, who has easily allowed his woman to assert dominance in the relationship, and write out the pecking order of the household, one where he is clearly not on top.
Clearly, the “man” is a gigantic pussy, who pretty much lets everyone walk all over him, including the dog. Observing him, it’s fairly evident that either he and the alpha have no children of their own, or there’s a slight possibility that they’re empty nesters, with nothing better to do on their weekends than to come to things like the Renaissance Faire. Regardless, based on the NASCAR hat, and the polo shirt with NASCAR sponsor emblems on the front, it’s obvious what the pussy likes.
If my hypothesis is correct, their relationship was predicated on the wife being able to do whatever the fuck she wanted, just so long as he could have his Sundays to himself, while he and sometimes buddies, watched races. But given their age, such behavior has gone on so long, that it has essentially become the norm, and the way of living during NASCAR time, has become the way of living, de facto. The sad thing is that pussy probably has no idea that such has turned out the way it is, he’s grown so used to having it like such.
If I weren’t so disgusted by his emasculation, I might actually feel a little bit sad for him. But then to rub salt into the wounds, I saw him later on in the afternoon carrying the stroller, with alpha and Precious nowhere in sight. Meaning the wife left him, dog in tow. And to make matters worse, I spotted him on his return trip, carrying none other than one of those Paris Hilton-like pet carrier purses.
I almost vomited right then and there. Fuckin’ pussy.
