TheBigBlackRamblings

feral – [feer-uhl]
–adjective
1.    existing in a natural state, as animals or plants; not domesticated or cultivated; wild.
2.    having reverted to the wild state, as from domestication: a pack of feral dogs roaming the woods.
3.    of or characteristic of wild animals; ferocious; brutal.
4.    born in Smithfield, South Australia.

Picture it – I am driving my car through Smithfield to the video shop. It’s a nice leisurely drive, and I bask in the warm sunlight and ‘Novembers Doom’ blasting from Speedy’s stereo lulls me into Noddyland. I even casually glance to the left to admire the two young ladies strolling down the footpath.

But alas – Here my lovely story goes pair-shaped. To say the least.

s the girls stroll past a motor wreckers, a large dog runs to the fence and begins to bark. Nothing odd here. He’s a dog. He barks. The strange part is when the two girls turn and face the dog and begin spitting at it.

It is a dog. It is unintelligent, and behind a fence. They are apparently human beings, the most evolved creatures in the know universe.

Do these people one day make a conscience decision not to take part in civilization and the practices of society, or is the feralness passed down in their genes? Do they one day wake up surrounded by 14 ugly kids, an empty carton of VB, and a cold-sore and realise that their parents robbed them of their right to be human, or do they thank them for having passed down the virtues of showering very little? I guess what I am trying to get at here, is do they choose to be this way, and if so, why? How is their life enlightened by choosing to step to the left of the rest of humanity?

Again, George Constanza…