Back in June of 2010, I had something of a run-in with Mr. Stallone. He was driving through my neighborhood in New Jersey- I later learned that he was scouting locations here for a project that never came to fruition. Anyway, like I usually did, I tied my dog Robert to the flagpole in my front hard before I readied myself to walk him. On that morning in June, I didn't tie Robert tight enough to the pole and he was able to scramble loose and wander into the road. As I collected my keys out of a bowl in the hallway,
I heard a screech of tires and a yelp of a dog who could only be Robert. I rushed out of the front door and hurtled towards the car that had hit him- a Mustang GT that still had the driver at the wheel. The driver's side door opened and to my disbelief Sylvester Stallone stepped out with a look of shock on his face. At first he was apologetic and I explained the flagpole situation, but after pitching a comment about his driving to him, he became irritated. I politely told Mr. Stallone about it being a quiet suburban area and he should watch his speed. He was wearing purple tinted aviator sunglasses, which he removed after I made the comment, once he placed them in his shirt pocket, he began staring at me angrily.
The tension was interrupted, if not broken by Robert yelping; he was dying as he lay on his side inches away from the bumper of Stallone's GT, which caught his attention. He made his way to the front of the car and clenched his fists and threw his arms in the air in a rage before adding some abuse to go along with it- "Look! Look at what your stupid mutt has done to my car!" There was a slight dent and some scratched paint work, which I took some responsibility for, but I didn't take kindly to him hitting my dog and calling him a "mutt".
I offered Mr. Stallone an apology about the damage, one that I thought he had accepted- he sighed turned to me, cocked his head, shrugged and tapped his hand on my shoulder. He slid his hand off my shoulder, laughed nervously and said "These accidents happen" to which I faintly nodded. Stallone then turned to Robert who had passed away by this point and said "Oh no... sorry, boy. He probably only wanted a drink of water or something. Here, let me cool you off"- To my shock and horror, Sylvester Stallone unzipped his trousers and began to urinate on my dead dog. Mid-pee, Stallone began humming "Always look on the bright side" as he moved up and down on his toes, spraying urine all over my dog and the immediate area. Towards the end of him urinating, Stallone turned his head and looked over his shoulder as he smirked at me.
And that was my encounter with Sylvester Stallone.
