Much like the mist-gripped foothills of Scotland where a poorly timed double-malt break on a rocky hillock can be enough to make you a believer of the supernatural, the minivan and cul-de-sac maze of your average suburban jungle can be a scary, disorienting and mystical place. If the day fades into twilight (literary time of day…not jailbaity vamp flick) and the falling sun catches on the buckle of a soccer mom’s knock-off coach clutch just right, you may find your eyes deceiving you…
Picture if you will a fashionable young man, perhaps a glass of pinot into his evening, walking alongside two purebred, noble canines, saaaaaaay dachshunds…one brown and one black-and-tan. Blissfully stomping through the middle-Canadia catwalk to the refined musical stylings of artists with dollar signs in their names, our hero is entirely unaware that he is about to come face to face with his destiny.
With one final turn down a pedestrian pathway, he comes to a dead halt as if the sidewalk itself had latched onto his well-defined calf muscles. Let’s also suggest that a rogue tree branch rips off his shirt to expose a rippling, almost surreal torso. And Chris Evans walks by and asks if he wants can…you know…pet his wiener…and the two hide in the bushes and -
NO!
Must retain literary integrity!
Frozen in place, the sexy dogwalker stares ahead, into the eyes of an older gentleman – likely in his sixties – also at a standstill, also walking dachshunds…one brown and one black-and-tan…and – for the sake of over-the-top parallels – also listening to Ke$ha.
(He wasn’t listening to Ke$ha.)
The two meet halfway in between their respective cul-de-sacs, nod uncomfortably, recognizing the phenomenon seemingly representative of a Star Trekeqsue rift in time. With a single glance back over his shoulder and a shiver running down his spine, our main character hurries home to drink the rest of the bottle and stare at his youth in the mirror while his milkshake still brings all the boys to the yard.
Damn right, it’s better than yours.
But this wouldn’t be his last encounter with his eerie future…in fact, the cross-generational intersect would occur just often enough to keep him on his toes and his nipples erotically at attention. As weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, the dogwalker-you’d-like-to-eff wondered if he was perhaps losing his gorgeous mind – he’s smart AND sexy, you see – and set out to capture photographic evidence of this surely supernatural occurrence.
Prepare yourself for the frightening visual proof…
1. Future Calvin.
2. Future Ben.
3. Future Theo.
DO YOU BELIEVE?!?!
(Fine. It’s an old man from around the corner whose dogs are fatter than mine. Happy? You totally killed the vibe I had going. Asshole.)