About Me

I feel the wanderlust and the call of the open highway. Which is good, because I drive cars for a living. But I'm a writer, and someday hope to once again make my living using my writing skills.

Friday, September 8, 2017

HARVEY, IRMA AND ME

Hurricane Harvey had hit Houston very hard, and the long journey to getting back to normal has just begun.  Then I started hearing about Irma as I delivered a car to Florida, and was eager to get out of the state just as soon as possible.

I was in Fort Lauderdale, headed upstairs in a building to pick up the keys to the car going to Chicago.  As I stepped off the elevator, my cell phone rang, and I answered only to hear the voice of my eternally grumpy boss Riff.  "Where are you, loser?"

"In Fort Lauderdale, at the pharmaceutical company, about to pick up the car headed to Chicago."

"About to, you say?  Which means you haven't done it yet."

"I'm going to get it right now."

"I am so tired of your shoddy showmanship."

"Showmanship?"

"You heard me, cupcake.  You may fool other people with your rich creamy filling, but I know you for the scallywag that you are."  A woman stepped up to me all dressed in white and seemed eager to talk to me.  She inched closer and closer to me, anxious for my full attention, but I was still talking to Riff.  "Are you still there, you ignorant sumbitch?"

"Riff, I have to go."

"Why, I'm not through talking yet."

"Because the woman is standing right in front of me."  She tapped a finger on her watch indicating that I should hurry.

"Who's more important to you, your sweet savvy boss or some slut you've never met."  That was the moment I chose to hang up.

"You are late, now come on."  The woman grabbed me by the shoulder and led me back into her huge office space and then down a long hallway.  This woman reminded me a lot of actress Jane Lynch, who played the coach on GLEE among other things.  "I appreciate you being here, but I abhor tardiness."

"I thought I was early," I said, looking at my watch.

"Listen, the only thing I hate worse that tardiness is lying.  Please don't add insult to injury."  She clucked her tongue disapprovingly and shook her head.

"I am genuinely sorry."

She shrugged.  "I suppose I can't expect everyone to be as on-point as I am. I'm Maggie by the way. Most people I find to be slovenly and unpredictable."  I kept on walking down the hall, and she had her hand around my upper arm guiding me.  When I started to walk past the door which was her private office, she dug her fingernails into my arm and pulled me back.  "Whoa cowboy, what's your rush?  We're in here."

Maggie led me into the office, but it really looked more like an exam room at a Doctor's office.  This did not phase me, for I have delivered cars for all kinds of people in various professions.  As a driving fool, nothing surprises me anymore.  "Do you have the keys?"

"Roll up your sleeves, please."

"Ok, what?  I need the car keys."

"I have no earthly idea what you're talking about, but we don't have any time to waste.  I need to get your blood pressure, take several blood samples, and I will need urine and stool sample from you."

"Stool?"

"Yes, right, number two.  You know, doo-doo."

"Yes ma'am, I know doo-doo.  But I--"

"No buts, you signed up for the program and its too late to back out now."

"Back out of what?"

"The drug testing program.  We have a new pharmaceutical product that has wonderful applications and benefits, but has a side effect of hallucinations.  We need to monitor these, it may be sort of like having a bad acid trip."

"I've never had an acid trip."

"Well, I'm certain you've had mushrooms, also known as magic mushrooms?"

I took a few steps away from her.  "I think I'm the wrong guy in the wrong place."

Maggie got very aggressive.  "Look here, Mr. Habib, I have had just about enough.  I've tried to be patient with you, but you agreed to all this when you signed--"

"No," I interrupted.

"No to what?"

I threw my hands up.  "No to so much.  No I'm not Mr. Habib, no I'm not here for your drug tests, no I'm not late..."

"But you are late."

"How could I be late if I didn't have an appointment?"  I wasn't getting anywhere, so I pulled out my driver's license and my paperwork to pick up the car.  Maggie examined my card.

"Wait, you're not Mr. Habib."

"Correct."

"Why were you pretending to be Mr. Habib?  Something doesn't smell right."

"I'm here to pick up one of your company cars to take to Chicago."

"Chicago?  The windy city?"

"That's the one."

She seemed convinced.  "Well if you're not Mr. Habib, why have you been wasting my time?"  Before I could answer, Maggie grabbed me by the arm again and led me out and down the hall.  Another woman came towards us, and Maggie shouted, "Jillian, I think this guy is here to see you about a car. I have to find Mr. Habib."

Jillian stepped up to me and smiled as Maggie walked away briskly.  "Hello, you must be Bill Thomas."

I smiled and nodded.  "Yes, that's me.  Hope the car is all ready to go."  We walked into a lobby area where a TV was playing a news update.

"The car is ready, but don't be in too much of a hurry."

"Well, I just want to get on the road before major evacuations begin."

Jillian smiled sadly and pointed at the TV on the wall.  I looked and saw traffic cams showing both Interstate 95 and the Florida Turnpike.  Both looked like parking lots, full of cars that were not moving.  "Looks like Irma may slow you down a bit."

"Or a lot.  No worries, that's my job.  I'm a driving fool."

I am actually writing this blog entry as I sit on the Florida Turnpike.  I've moved 5 miles in the past two hours, and so I wanted to share this story via talk to text.  Think a good thought for me and wish me luck!

Thursday, August 24, 2017

RHINESTONE COWBOY RIDES AWAY

It had been a pretty rough day driving.  I ran into a lot more traffic than usual as I drove through Tennessee, and my boss Riff kept on calling to chew me out about absolutely nothing.  Sweet old Mrs. Sherman had called me multiple times asking for the recipe for homemade ice cream.  And my counterpart driver Andy was making threatening calls to me, once again angry about the fact I pulled him from a burning vehicle and probably saved his life.  Andy is an odd duck.

Then I heard the news on the radio-- Glen Campbell had died.  My mind immediately went to my old high school buddy Steve, who loved the music of Glen since forever, maybe even more than I love George Strait songs.  I decided to sidetrack over to Kentucky because I thought for sure he could use a good friend right about then.

Two hours later, I walked into his little General Store, and when he saw me come in he broke down in tears.  I sang, "I've been walking these streets so long, singing the same old song."   Steve rushed over to give me a bear hug, and I said "I heard about Glen, and my car sort of headed in this direction."

"Thank you so much, buddy.  I can't believe you're here."

"Believe it.  Accept it.  And then move on."

He put his massive hand on top of my head and tousled my hair vigorously.  "Glen is gone, Bill."

"Yep."  He led me into the back room so we could sit down and talk.

"I feel like I've lost a member of my family."

"I completely understand."

"Do you remember on my 18th birthday when I came to your Mom's house, and you took me back to your room and played RHINESTONE COWBOY for me?"

"And then I gave you the cassette tape so you could wear it out in your car listening to it over and over."

Steve laughed.  "Yes, and I did wear it out completely.  I keep on thinking about all the milestones in my life that somehow were connected to Glen Campbell."

"You also wore out the LIVE FROM LONDON cassette tape I got you."

Steve had a faraway look in his eyes.  "I miss cassette tapes."

"I did too, but I got used to CDs."

"Yeah, but I read they are soon to be obsolete because of streaming and such."

"Is that right?"

Steve shrugged.  "That's what I read."

"Do you remember the prilgrimage we made together to Galveston when we were in college?"

"Yes, you knew how much I loved that song and you suggested late one night that we drive there.  We left home just before midnight and drove all night."

"I remember.  And I will never forget when you kept on hitting rewind, play, rewind, play on my cassette player and chewed up Glen's tape.  It was a goner."

Steve beamed and laughed out loud.  "Yep, and you buried him at sea."

"We were on that long bridge that goes for miles over Mobile bay, and I just tossed it ceremoniously out the window."

"And I screamed Gleeeeeeen!"  We both chuckled at the memory.  "Gosh, its good to see you, brother.  You're my only friend in the world who would drive to Kentucky to see me because you knew I'd be hurting."

"Well stop hurting, we shouldn't mourn Glen, we should listen to his music all night and sing along."  Just then the front door open, and the bright setting sun shining through made the man standing there nothing but a sillouhette.  But he was built exactly like Mr. Campbell, and he was wearing a cowboy hat that sparkled in the sunlight.  Rhinestones, perhaps?

Steve stared and his jaw dropped.  "Glen?"

"Yes?" came the voice of the man we still could not see.

Steve got very emotional.  "Glen?"

"Yeah, what?" said the man impatiently, walking inside so we could see him.  He looked nothing like Glen Campbell.  "I'm Glen Perry, have we met?"

Steve shook his head.  "No sir, my mistake.  How can I help you today?"  Steve finished with the customer and then we put on some Glen and sang our hearts out.  It's really good to have such good friends in the world to share the good times and the rough times.


Monday, July 31, 2017

DETOUR TO DANGER

It was Tuesday when I arrived in Idaho, and I was having a lot of trouble finding the delivery location.  It wasn't in a city, but way out in the country.  I had used Mapquest and my GPS, and neither one of them was precise or conclusive.  The customer had tried to explain to me on the phone, but I kept on hitting dead cell zones and could not keep a connection long enough to understand.

When I was at least confident I was getting close, I thought perhaps I could find someplace nearby to ask for specific and exact directions to the house.  It was frustrating not to be able to find any gas stations or stores or even a Cafe.  Then I turned a corner on the little two lane highway and saw the entrance to... something.  I could see a whole lot of warehouses on the property, each one rusty and in a bad state of disrepair.  At the entrance to the property, there was an empty guard shack and a truck idling on the right side of it.  I drove in on the left side of the shack, as there were no gates and nothing barring my entry.

I parked and got out and walked over towards the guard shack.  I could see that a man on foot was outside of the shack talking to the driver of the truck.  It seemed logical that the man was the guard, although he certainly was not dressed like one.  He was wearing camo pants, worn out hiking boots, a train engineer cap, and a T-shirt so small for him that his belly hung out of the bottom.

When he turned and saw me, he said,  "Whoa, whoa, no sir, you stop right where you are!"

I stopped.  "Hello sir, I just wanted to ask directions."

"Directions?  Are you kidding me?  Do you know where you are, ya stupid moron?"

"I know I'm in Idaho, but other than that I'm pretty lost."

"Ha ha, no one likes a smart aleck ass."

I shook my head.  "I wasn't meaning to be--"

"You are breaking the law, and you better get out of here now.  This is a government military facility."

"It is?"

"You know damn well it is.  Didn't you see the gates and the DO NOT ENTER signs?"

"No, no signs.  And there was no gate at all where I drove in."

"Gates are down for repair, but you just have to keep on picking at the scab, looking for some way to try to make a fool of me."

I was very confused.  "No, I promise."

"Promises mean nothing from a liar.  You could easily be a traitor or an Asian spy.  Now get out of here before I have you shot."

"OK, but if you wouldn't mind just pointing me in the right direction first?"

"Boy, you are pressing your luck, big time!"  He started to trot over towards me, but stepped into a small pothole and tripped and hit the asphalt face down.  I turned and made haste for my car.  "Look what you did to me.  If I had a gun I'd--"

But I was in the car and quickly leaving the property.  Ten minutes later, I passed a mailbox and a woman came running out from a grove of trees waving both arms at me.  After the recent events, I was a little bit wary of pulling over, but I decided to roll down the window.

"Are you Bill Thomas?" she asked me.

"Yes, I am."

"Oh good, I've been watching for you since we got disconnected for the dozenth time.  I was worried."

I pulled into the driveway and parked.  As I got out, I said, "I stopped to get directions at some top secret government facility down the road and nearly got into serious trouble."

"Government facility?"  I tried to describe the location, and she looked upset.  "Oh, that was not a government facility.  Years ago it was a factory, and then it closed down for good, and the the militia moved in there."

"The militia?"

"Private warriors, a bunch of crazies who feel like they will be in charge when the USA falls apart."

"I didn't know we were going to fall apart."

"Talk to them, they'd tell you all about it."

"No, I don't think so.  I got a bad first impression."

She snickered.  "Just imagine having them down the road as neighbors."  She looked over the car and signed for it, and then offered to take me to the nearest town as she had some shopping to do.  As we drove by the facility again, I saw the guard limping badly around the shack, and I found myself sliding down low in my seat.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

CARPORT OF THE APES

After delivering a car to Miami, my old chum John Hazzard offered me a ride to my next car.  He had an appointment in Apopka, Florida just outside of Orlando and said he would welcome the company on the ride up.  As for me, I was thrilled to get a ride with a friend rather than renting a car or taking the bus or Amtrak.  And John was always good company.

"This is a new kind of case for me, Bill," he explained as he drove north up the Florida Turnpike.  "A very poor family won the big lottery last week, and now they want to invest in property.  I'm supposed to offer them options, but frankly I don't know if they have the brain power to understand the most simple concepts."

"Really?"

"Sadly, yes.  I was talking about savings, and they thought I meant wood shavings.  I mentioned annuities and they thought I meant passing gas."

"Well that doesn't make any sense at all."

John smiled and nodded.  "And that's what we're in for in Apopka.  Do you want me to drop you off in Orlando first?"

"No, I would really like to come to Apopka and see what happens."

"Who knows, you may get another story from this."

"There's always another story."

When we arrived at the house in Apopka two hours later, we found it to be in very bad condition.  There was a very large yard strewn with garbage, and an elderly woman was running around in circles holding a BB rifle and shouting.  We both got out of the car in a hurry and rushed over to see what was wrong.

"They're here!  They're here and they're taking over!"

John tried to calm her.  "Miss Stalvey, please calm down."

"Did you hear what I said?  They've taken over and we are all in big trouble!"

"Who?" asked John.

"The apes!  There are apes in my carport, and they are big and mean and nasty.  They got them fangs."

A gentleman who appeared to be a few years older than Miss Stalvey came out wearing faded overalls but no shirt.  "Monkeys.  Um, they the rhesus macinow or something or other."

Miss Stalvey wouldn't calm down, she seemed incapable of anything but stress and screaming.  "They have taken over the carport.  What's next?"

The old gent held his hand out towards John and said, "I'm Henry, you must be the lawyer fella."

John smiled and shook his hand.  "Jonathan Hazzard, it's a real pleasure."

"Don't know if you heard or not, but there's been a population boom up in Silver Springs of these monkeys, and they're aggressive and not afraid of people.  Now they are migrating down our way."

Miss Stalvey pointed a finger straight at me.  "First our carport, then Orlando, and you know what will be next."  I shook my head weakly NO.  "Disney World.  Those damn dirty apes will invade the Magical Kingdom and then we are all doomed."

Henry cleared his throat.  "I think you're going overboard, honey bunch."

"Them dirty creatures aren't proper vaccinamated and can have them rabid rabies.  You ever seen their fangs?"

Henry tried to lead John away from the agitated woman.  "Let's talk some property and investing.  I was thinking I might like to buy a swimming pool.  A big one where the public can go swim, and I'll charge 'em money to swim in my pool."

John was perplexed.  "You know they have public pools where people can go swim for free."

Henry furrowed his brow.  "Now that don't seem right."

Miss Stalvey pushed between them.  "But can monkeys swim?  That's what we really need to know in case we need a fast escape.  What happens when they learn how to use knives and guns?  And what if they learn how to shoot off one of them nuccular atom bombs?  Then what?"  She heard a noise behind her and spun around and started shooting the rifle.  I felt like diving for cover, even if it was a BB gun.

Then Henry began scratching his chin.  "What if I was to buy a cemetery?  Where the people are already mostly buried.  Would that be a good investment?"

Miss Stalvey shouted, "Of course it'd be a good investment cuz a lot of humans will need burying when the apes take over.  I can see an army of apes marching down the streets and there is nothing we human folks can do about it."

"We could fight back," I heard myself say, then wondered how I could be so foolish.  The look on Henry and John's faces said that they agreed with me about the foolishness.

"We'd lose!" she yelled.  "The apes were here first, and we evolutionized ourselves out of them.  So they know what we know and they are clever and wise and thrifty."

"Thrifty?"

"Is that the word I mean?" she pondered.  "Well, all that counts is that you know what I mean.  And you damn well do."  I saw one of the monkeys race across the back of the carport but kept it to myself.

"Maybe I could buy a zoo," said Henry.

"You do and I will leave you!  No more monkeys, and I'm gonna kill me some today and make monkey stew."

She marched off defiantly.  Henry turned to John and said,  "Well, that's what I get for marrying a child bride.  She's very willful."

"Oh, how old is she?" asked Jon.

"She's 35.  I married her when she was 14."

I was stunned.  This woman looked like she was in her 70's.  I guess hard living and booze and Camels will age you prematurely.  "You're a lucky man," I said.

"Well thank you sir, I feel special to have her.  She keeps me young.  Say Mr. Hazzard, what about if I bought up some churches?  Would that get me a good return on my investments?"

I stood by as John tried patiently to explain that the best tactic was for the law firm to put together a list of good prospects and let him look it over.  But the thing I will never forget from that fateful day in Apopka was the Carport of the Apes.

Friday, June 30, 2017

SPEED GOLF

It had been a while since I saw my good friends Tom and Jenny on their big dog ranch in the Texas hill country.  I passed through on July 3, and planned to stay until July 5 when I could deliver the car to the customer in San Antonio.

I got to the ranch and Jenny ran outside to give me a big hug, surrounded by nine dogs.  These were the house dogs, the ones who lived inside.  The other forty five dogs were in the huge comfortable dog warehouse that Tom had built.

Just then, Tom came running out of the house and said "Let's go, Bill-dog."  He grabbed me by the arm as he ran past and pulled me along.

"OK, but what's the big rush?"

Jenny smiled.  "Golf."

"Golf?"

"Golf," confirmed Tom.  "Come on, there's a course down near Lake LBJ and we can get there in time for 18 holes if we hurry."  We hopped into his truck and took off.  "Now we got everything we need here, I packed and planned ahead."

"That is so like you."

Tom laughed and reached over and tousled my hair vigorously.  "I've missed you brother, it's been way too long.  Jenny and I were just talking the other night, wishing you lived closer by."

"Me too.  It's peaceful out here."

"This is God's country."  Tom reached into his ice chest behind the seats and pulled out two cold beers, handing one to me.  He opened his, and I did the same.

"Are you sure this is OK?"

"Bill-dog, you are in the Texas hill country, things work a little different down here."

"So it's OK to have a beer as you drive?"

"Absolutely, just so you keep it down and don't draw unwanted attention."

We arrived at the golf course, and Tom jumped out and hustled over to the caddyshack.  He put his hand on a young man's shoulder and spoke for a moment, then hopped in a golf cart and drove it over to the truck.  "Everything OK?" I asked.

"Yes sir, we're good.  Grab that ice chest out of the back and load it in here."  As I did as he asked, he grabbed his bag of clubs and put it them in.  "Now we are on a time limit here, they close before we could possibly play all eighteen."

"OK."

"Now you have played golf before, right?"

"Miniature golf."

Tom threw his head back and laughed heartily.  "OK, well then we are gonna have to improvise.  We are about to play speed golf."  He jumped into the passenger seat and pointed to the driver's seat for me.  "Go, bud, go."  I put the pedal to the metal and went to the first tee off spot.  Tom got out and set down his ball and hit it hard without any hesitation.  Then he ran back to the cart.  "Go, go, go!"  So I went.

We found the ball near the green, and Tom quickly got out and hit it again without pause.  He followed it to the green and hit it several more times until it went into the hole.  He got back into the cart with me, and I said "So that's how you play speed golf?"

He pointed ahead and said "Second hole, move it."  As I drove quickly, he said  "Beer me."  I reached back into the ice chest and got him a beer.  He opened it and took a long pull from it.  "Hope you don't mind not playing, but--"

"Don't explain, don't apologize, I will do the driving and serving of the beer, you just play."

Tom smiled and nodded.  "That's the general idea."  He got out again and repeated the process.  Hit the ball quickly, hop in the cart, and roll fast to it, hit it again and again till it goes in the hole.  Then hand him a beer.  "Where's your beer, buddy?"

"I'm driving."

Tom snorted and reached into the ice chest.  "You're just gonna have to trust me on this.  Part of speed golf is beer consumption, so don't be shy.  Go with the flow."  And so I let the cold beer flow down my throat.  I don't usually drink, but it was a holiday and it was awfully hot outside.  We hit the third hole, the fourth, the fifth, drinking about one beer every other hole.  Tom was actually doing pretty darn good considering how fast we were going.

As I drove to the seventh hole, Tom reached into his bag and pulled out a towel, which he used to mop his face drenched with sweat.  He unzipped a side pocket and produced a small boom box, which instantly made me happy. "You brought music?"

"What, are you kidding?  Of course I brought music, but you're slipping up, you haven't been playing it and we are at the seventh hole."

"I didn't know you had it."  I turned it on and was pleased to hear The Eagles "LYIN' EYES".

He pointed a finger at me and looked deadly serious.  "No excuses, no regrets."  Then he broke into a grin and patted me on the shoulder, jumping out of the golf cart and rushing to hit the ball once more.  He came back to the cart saying,  "Let's go, move it you driving fool."

"I'm moving, I'm moving," I said as I floored it.

"Where's my beer?"  I reached back into the ice chest and grabbed one.  "OK, now where's yours?"  I held up the one I was still working on, as I could not quite keep up with his pace.  He was playing speed golf and power drinking all at once.

After we finished the tenth hole, I said, "This is amazing, its as if we have the course all to ourselves."

"We pretty much do, buddy."

"Oh boy, this is great!"

"Better than great.  Now open us both a cold beer, and I won't take no for an answer."

"Then I won't give you no for an answer."  We both laughed as I handed him another beer and opened a fresh one for myself.

Hole eleven.  Hole twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Tom reached into another pocket on his golf bag and pulled out a fat joint.  "Time to get high."  He lit the joint.

"Where did you get that?"

"Hey, I come prepared."

"Indeed you do."  I was feeling very good and not a little lightheaded.  Tom tried to hand me the joint, and I waved it away.  "Buddy, I am pretty buzzed right now, if I start smoking that I may flip the cart."

Tom shrugged happily.  "If it happens it was meant to be."  He tried to offer it again, but I came to a halt at the fifteenth hole.  He got out and made his shot, and I couldn't believe how good he was doing without taking time to set up his shots.

When we got to the seventeenth hole, he hit the ball and then yelled "Crap!"

I was confused.  "Aren't you supposed to yell FORE?"

Tom pointed ahead, and I could see four men walking towards the green.  The ball went over their heads and landed just on the edge of the green.  He rushed to the cart shouting,  "Go, move, now, go!"  I took off and headed for the green, but he guided me to take the long way around the other golfers.  As they saw us going by, Tom yelled,  "Don't mind us, just playing through."  Then he turned to me.  "You know what I feel like?  A cold beer."  The other four men were shouting at us.

"Me too."  I reached into the ice chest as he sunk his ball, and we moved on to the eighteenth hole.  "What's your score?"

"You haven't been keeping score?"

I was caught off guard.  "I didn't know I was supposed to."

He hit the ball.  "Oh no, now we have to start all over."

"Seriously?"

"No."  Tom chuckled and hopped in, and we went to the green so he could sink his final ball.  After, we drove back to the caddyshack and Tom said,  "You know how we celebrate finishing a game?  A cold beer and a shot of Jack."

"You have Jack Daniels in that bag?"

"Nope, but I've got a big bottle back home.  Let's go, Jenny should have dinner fixed by the time we get there.  By the way, nice driving."

"I've had a lot of experience.  By the way, nice golfing."

Tom opened two more beers and handed one to me.  "Speed golfing."  He raised a beer in a toast, and I joined him.  "To afternoon golf and beer and good friends."

"I will always drink to that."  And I did.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

BIRTHDAY TO REMEMBER

As I travel, I have had many memorable experiences, and some top notch birthdays on the road.  This year found me in Columbus, Ohio where my friend Smokey had just passed away.  He'd been fighting the cancer, but he went down fast at the end.  I got a car headed nearby a few days before his funeral.  I began talking to his Dad, who I had become very close with over the years.

After the funeral, I actually had a car I needed to deliver, and Smokey's father offered to follow me in his car and then to drive me back to his house to stay the night.  We both pulled our cars into the woman's driveway and it looked very much like no one was home.

I climbed out of the car and called the woman, and she answered her cell phone with a curt, "What?"

"Hi, this is Bill Thomas, I'm at your home right on time to deliver your car."

"Well I'm not there yet, so you'll just have to wait."

"Yes ma'am."  I hung up, and Smokey's father Ralph reached his hand out for the paperwork I was carrying.

"Can I take a look?  I've always been curious about what you do, how it all works." He took a long look over the paperwork and then "Hmmm'ed" to himself.

"What is it?"

"Well the name is unusual, not common.  Mackankowski."

"Not that unusual," I said.

"But far from common.  I used to have a man who worked for me by that name.  It's just a coincidence."

"I'm sure that's just what it is."  So we had a conversation about how Ralph started his company 45 years ago and had grown it into a mini-empire. We waited for 20 minutes and the woman finally pulled up into the driveway.  From the moment she jumped out of the car, it was clear that she was a nervous wreck, a stressed mess.

"Look I know I'm late but it couldn't be helped so just deal with it."

I shrugged.  "No problem here, just want you to look over the car and sign the paperwork and we'll be on our way."

"Oh, you have a ride out of here?  We are way out in the country..."  Just then, she looked at Ralph for the first time and said, "It's you!"

Ralph nodded.  "Hello, Martha."

"Don't you hello me, you cocky bastard.  You caused me so much trouble I don't even know where to begin."

"Calm down."

"I will not calm down!  You fired my husband for sleeping with his secretary, and it ruined my life.  I forgave him for adultery, why couldn't you?"

"His many affairs had nothing to do with his dismissal."

"Many?  He only had one."

Ralph nodded.  "Allright."

"So you fired him just because he was late two or three days every week?  And he missed days when he wasn't feeling well?"

"That's not why."

"Then why?  Why did you fire him?  What possible good reason could you have had for getting rid of him leading to us losing our home, then him hitting the bottle, and finally running out on me and my kid?"

"He embezzled over a million dollars."

"He did not!"

"He absolutely did, we caught him red handed with a paper trail."

She was quiet for a moment, and then said  "Why didn't I see any of that money?"

Ralph shook his head. "I couldn't tell you that, I just know that it was ill gotten gains and no one should have benefited."

"Says you!"

I held up the paperwork.  "So, if you could just sign here, I can go enjoy a birthday dinner with my friend Ralph."

She glared at me.  "Ask me if I care that it's your birthday."  She scribbled her signature and snatched the keys from me.  "Both of you get off my property before I call the law."

We got into Ralph's car and went out for a real nice dinner.  I've never had a customer and a friend crossover before, but it was a memorable birthday for sure.

Friday, May 26, 2017

SCRATCHING AN ITCH

I was driving across the Florida panhandle on Memorial Day weekend, and feeling extremely fatigued.  It had been a very long day, and the sun was beginning to go down.  I can drive long distances all day every day, but when the sun goes down so do my eyelids.  So I got off Interstate 10 when I saw a Love's truck stop.

One step out of the car and I could tell my left leg had fallen asleep.  I stomped on it to try to wake it up, and then I half limped over to the gas pump so I could fill the tank of this gas guzzling SUV.  Once I had topped it off completely, I went inside to answer the call of nature.  And that is when I realized I had a pounding headache starting, and it was a doozy.

There were very few people in the truck stop at this point of the evening, and I walked around freely without bumping into anyone.  I had a little bit of trouble finding the medication aisle, and when I finally discovered the BC headache powders they were in a remote corner of the store.  I stood alone and looked for the BC pack I wanted, and my butt itched so without even thinking I reached back and scratched it -- with my hands on the outside of my pants, naturally.

"How dare you!" screamed a woman, and I spun around quite startled to see this woman who seemingly came out of nowhere.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What you need to be begging for is my forgiveness.  How could you be so crass and crude?  Just because you had to itch that scratch on your big fat buns like a redneck neanderthal caveman."

I shook my head, confused.  "Itch that scratch?  I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't know anyone was around."

"And that's your excuse?  No one was watching so it's OK to display disgusting, nauseating behavior that would make a child scream with terror?"

I looked all around.  "What child?"

"Don't change the subject.  You have defiled my sense of morality, and I feel abused and traumatized.  So I hope you are proud of yourself."

"I assure you I am not."

"Well you shouldn't be.  I mean, why didn't you just pull down your pants so everyone could see your birthday suit while you were scratching?  Why didn't you just walk around swinging your weiner like a helicopter propeller?"

"I...I..."  Truth is, I didn't know what to say.

"You are a nasty, filthy man.  I advise you go home tonight and drop to your knees and pray that the good Lord will forgive you-- though I seriously doubt that He will."  She stormed off still spitting out hateful things, and I really didn't know how to feel.  I try to be nice to everyone and never wish to offend anyone.  But this woman seemed just a tad extreme.