I was talking to my miserable boss Riff as I approached my delivery address in South Bend, Indiana. "Why are you always running late, you little pissant?"
"Riff, I'm three hours ahead of the deadline you gave me. I drove hard to make it on time. And I just had the car washed and waxed as you instructed."
"Well, you are in for a treat. This lady sounds like a real piece of work. Enjoy yourself. And remember, do not accept a ride from her. Its her company's rule."
"I already have my exit transportation all arranged."
"You'd better!"
"I do." I hung up as I pulled into the driveway of Mrs. Edmonds. She came rushing out of the house.
"Are you Bill?" she asked frantically.
I smiled at her as I climbed out of the car. "Yes ma'am, Bill Thomas at your service."
"I was beginning to worry if you'd ever make it. Punctuality is a lost art, I suppose. What kind of car would you call this?"
I looked at the car. "I'd call it a Chevy Malibu."
She shook her head. "Oh gee, I was sort of hoping for a Cadillac."
I shrugged. "Sorry, this is the car your company wanted me to deliver."
"Now did you wash the car?"
"Yes."
"That's not true, now is it?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"Can you prove the car was washed? Do you have a receipt?"
"Yes, its right here." I reached into my pocket, trying to remain calm and cordial. I do not much enjoy being accused of lying.
Mrs. Edmonds snatched the receipt from me and looked it over. "Oh no, this is from the car wash across town. I would have preferred you use the car wash about a mile from here. I know the people there."
"I had no idea."
"No? Well I suppose that rings true. Now how does the car run?"
"Perfect. I drove it here from New Orleans, and didn't have any problems."
"Fibber."
"Excuse me?"
"You just fibbed to me, that's quite obvious. This is a used car, so its not perfect."
"OK, poor choice of words on my part. What I meant to say was that its in very good shape for a used car. I can promise you that it is my job to tell you if I find anything wrong with the car."
She eyed me sideways. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, very sure."
"Did I get a fuel card, along with current registration and insurance?"
"You bet, its all in the glovebox."
"Prove it!" she said, pointing at me. "Because that sounds like a tall tale to me."
"Mrs. Edmonds, is there some reason you doubt me?"
"You just sound like you're full of BS to me."
"Really sorry that you feel that way, but I'm being 100% honest with you."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"I wish you would."
She walked around the car inspecting it with much more intensity than most customers do. And of course, she had every right to do so. I waited patiently for ten minutes. "I do not like this car one bit. But I suppose I have no choice but to accept it, do I?"
"I think you're going to like it."
"And I think you're wrong. Now where do I sign?" I handed her the paperwork and a pen, and pointed to the line with the X next to it. She waved the pen in the air several times before she put it down on the paper and signed her name. "Now I know you're going to need a ride, and I'm going to take you where you need to go, although I really don't want to."
"You don't have to."
"Well as I said, I don't want to. I'd rather not. But I'll do it if I have to."
"Thank you kindly, but there's no need. I have a ride all arranged."
"You do?" She came over close to me and began sniffing around me. "Do you smell smoke?"
"No," I said.
"I think your pants are on fire."
"My pants?"
"Liar, liar. You don't have a ride arranged, do you?""
"I'm telling you the truth."
"OK, Mr. Truth Teller, if you are so honest then explain how you're getting out of here."
"I'm renting a car from Avis. The agent at Avis said he'd come and pick me up."
"That's a big whopper. Don't insult my intelligence. I would appreciate it if you'd leave my property immediately, liars are not welcome here. I will be reporting you to your company for this."
So I gave her a copy of the paperwork and started walking up the street to the major intersection where Avis had agreed to pick me up. And that's the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Honestly.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
PEEK-A-BOO
I got word that my bank account at a certain nationwide chain was changing my absolutely Free checking account to a $1500 minimum balance account. They informed me that they had already subtracted the first monthly service fee, with many more to come. So I chose to find a branch and close the account, because I never seem to have as much as $1500 ahead.
As I passed through East St. Louis, I got off the highway where Mapquest told me I could find the nearest branch. It was in a very economically depressed neighborhood, in the lobby of a destitute grocery store. I went in and stood in line, with five people between me and the head of the line. First in line was a family: a father who had lost his belt (I assume, because his pants were drooping to his knees and his underwear was in full view); a mother chewing gum and popping bubbles; a restless girl of 5 or 6; and a toddler in a stroller wailing and crying to beat the band.
I felt sorry for the small crying girl and smiled at her. About that time, the father said to the mother, "You better tell that little bitch to shut the hell up right now."
The mother looked down at the crying girl. "You hear that bitch? He says you best shut your mouth. Don't make me tell you again."
But the crying continued, perhaps even louder now. When the little girl looked back my way, I covered my eyes with my hand, then pulled it back quickly revealing my eyes. A simple game of peek-a-boo, like I used to play with my friends' kids. The girl stopped crying immediately, as she was caught off guard by me being silly. I continued to do this, unnoticed by anyone but the little tyke, and she seemed fascinated. Her mouth formed into a big "O" and she just stared and stared. I added little flourishes to up the ante, and the more I did it, the more she liked it.
Before long, her older sister noticed me also, and she began to smile. About this time, the younger girl began to giggle very softly. And as I continued, her laughter grew infectious, and her older sis joined in. They just thought this goofy older guy was the funniest thing they had seen all day. They giggled and chuckled and gurgled, and I was glad I could make them happier. Better a happy child than a screaming child.
About that time, the mother looked down at the tiny girl to see what she was laughing about. She followed the little girl's eyeline until she saw me, and took a moment to watch what I was doing. And then she spoke to me rather forcefully. "Hey! Stop making them laugh. We don't like laughter."
I was both embarrassed and a bit confused. But I did stop, immediately, and looked off in the other direction. I stayed in line for 20 more minutes, and after I closed the account I was back into my car and on my way. In a way, I felt sort of sad as I drove away. I maintain that there is too much bad stuff in the world, and that we can use all the smiles and laughter we can get. Guess not everyone agrees with that.
As I passed through East St. Louis, I got off the highway where Mapquest told me I could find the nearest branch. It was in a very economically depressed neighborhood, in the lobby of a destitute grocery store. I went in and stood in line, with five people between me and the head of the line. First in line was a family: a father who had lost his belt (I assume, because his pants were drooping to his knees and his underwear was in full view); a mother chewing gum and popping bubbles; a restless girl of 5 or 6; and a toddler in a stroller wailing and crying to beat the band.
I felt sorry for the small crying girl and smiled at her. About that time, the father said to the mother, "You better tell that little bitch to shut the hell up right now."
The mother looked down at the crying girl. "You hear that bitch? He says you best shut your mouth. Don't make me tell you again."
But the crying continued, perhaps even louder now. When the little girl looked back my way, I covered my eyes with my hand, then pulled it back quickly revealing my eyes. A simple game of peek-a-boo, like I used to play with my friends' kids. The girl stopped crying immediately, as she was caught off guard by me being silly. I continued to do this, unnoticed by anyone but the little tyke, and she seemed fascinated. Her mouth formed into a big "O" and she just stared and stared. I added little flourishes to up the ante, and the more I did it, the more she liked it.
Before long, her older sister noticed me also, and she began to smile. About this time, the younger girl began to giggle very softly. And as I continued, her laughter grew infectious, and her older sis joined in. They just thought this goofy older guy was the funniest thing they had seen all day. They giggled and chuckled and gurgled, and I was glad I could make them happier. Better a happy child than a screaming child.
About that time, the mother looked down at the tiny girl to see what she was laughing about. She followed the little girl's eyeline until she saw me, and took a moment to watch what I was doing. And then she spoke to me rather forcefully. "Hey! Stop making them laugh. We don't like laughter."
I was both embarrassed and a bit confused. But I did stop, immediately, and looked off in the other direction. I stayed in line for 20 more minutes, and after I closed the account I was back into my car and on my way. In a way, I felt sort of sad as I drove away. I maintain that there is too much bad stuff in the world, and that we can use all the smiles and laughter we can get. Guess not everyone agrees with that.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
GIVE A DOG A BONE
I was driving down the highway in the Hill Country of Texas, and it seemed more than appropriate to be listening to George Strait singing SOMEWHERE DOWN IN TEXAS. I was on my way to see Tom and Jenny at their ranch full of dogs, and I knew that the welcome mat would be out. The last time I was there had been at Christmas, when they had just adopted the three little girls.
When I drove up to their house, I saw the girls playing out in the yard with the dogs. Normally Jenny would rush out to greet me, but for the first time this didn't happen. I felt concerned, but figured she must be busy inside. I got out and said hello to the girls, and then went inside to find Jenny in the middle of a heated conversation on the phone.
"I'm doing the best I can out here!" she shouted. "I have 40 dogs here right now, and I feed them and provide for them and do my very best to find homes for them. I really don't appreciate you saying crap like that about me, and if you're going to, how about saying it to my face instead of posting it on Facebook. And one more thing--" Jenny stopped mid-sentence, and just stared at the phone in disbelief. "I can't believe it. She hung up on me!"
"Who did?"
"This dumb bitch named Heidi. I had someone go back on a contract I had for an adopted dog, and she posted on Facebook that I wasn't doing a good enough job and that I should go and physically check out a home before I give a dog away."
"What?"
She let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Bill, where are my manners. Welcome home." She threw her arms around me and squeezed tight. "You're a sight for sore eyes. I needed a good friend right about now."
"And you've got one. Jenny, don't listen to that stupid woman, she obviously doesn't know what she's talking about. You do so much for these dogs, you go way above and beyond. Talk about pay it forward. I seriously doubt there is anyone in the world that takes care of dogs or loves dogs as much as you."
"I don't know about all that. Come here, I want to show you something." She led me over to her computer, and turned the screen for me to see. I was horrified by the sight of a dog with a huge fish hook in its snout. "There are insane people using dogs as live bait to catch big fish."
"What?"
"It's true! This is absolutely unacceptable behavior and should be considered heinous cruelty to animals. I can't believe we should have to tell someone this is wrong."
"Holy crap."
"Can you even imagine the fear these poor animals must be in the last minutes of their lives." Tears welled up in her eyes. "No living being deserves to be treated and used this way! Dammit!" She plopped down in her chair, looking defeated. "Sometimes I feel like with all I do, I am barely making a dent."
I gently rubbed her shoulders. "Nonsense, you are wonderful. You do so much good, I can't even begin to tell you. The love you show, the sacrifices you make. Listen, I brought beer and cigarettes and some thick steaks. And a big bag of dog biscuits for the pooches. I'm going to make you dinner and cheer you up. Where's Tom?"
"He's over at the neighbor's again, that bastard is causing us trouble every single day. Running customers off, building over our property line. I think Tom may shoot him before long."
"Let's hope not," I said. She got up and led me outside so we could check on the dogs and the kids. I had to get the stuff I brought out of the car anyway.
Jenny stopped and did a head count. "We have some new dogs. That one is John Wayne, and that one over there is Mr. Tom Hanks. The little one next to him is his brother Jim Hanks."
"You like naming them after movie actors, don't you?"
"Yep." She smiled, then looked a bit worried. "Where's Charlie?"
"Who?"
"Charlie McCarthy, he's a newcomer, a beagle. You'll like him."
Right about then, Tom came sauntering up. "Bill-doggie!" he yelled when he saw me. "Come here, bro." He grabbed me and hugged me tight. "How's my brother from another mother?"
"Great Tom, how are you?"
"Ready for a beer."
"I brought a 12 pack."
He grinned. "One of the things I love about you the most. Hey, I was just talking to our asshole neighbor. I think he makes his goal in life to harrass us."
Jenny interrupted. "Tom, where is Charlie?"
"I think I saw him in the woods when I was headed over to talk to Mr. Asshole Watson."
"He didn't go over there, did he?" Just as Jenny completed her sentence, we heard a dog yelp and cry from distance. "That's Charlie!" she cried, and ran into the house.
"Where's she going?" I asked.
Tom shook his head, and in a flash Jenny came back out of the house carrying Tom's shotgun. She ran past us at almost superhuman speed, and we ran after her. About one minute later, we were at their property line, and Charlie was laying on the ground bleeding. Their neighbor Watson was standing over the dog with a weed wacker, and Jenny took all her momentum from running and used the shotgun like a battering ram to knock Watson on his butt. "What'd you do to my dog?"
Watson was on the ground, stunned but stubborn. "He came onto my property."
Jenny was incredulous. "He came onto your property? Oh my God!"
"I had to teach him a lesson!"
"Did you? Well I guess now I'll have to teach you one, too." She pumped the shotgun and took aim. In the blink of an eye, Tom disarmed her. He swooped in and pulled the gun out of her hands, as Watson pulled himself to his feet. Jenny was in such a fierce state of protective aggressiveness that she was caught off guard by Tom's actions. She was a force to be reckoned with. Talk about irrepressible and irascible! When Watson was on his feet again, she shook her head no and hit him like a linebacker, knocking him onto the ground once more. "You are so lucky that I have to tend to Charlie's wounds, but trust me you son of a bitch, this isn't over." She picked up Charlie gently then began to run back for the house.
Watson got to his feet again. "You need to put those dogs and that wife of yours on a leash, and--"
Tom interrupted, leaning menacingly into Watson so that their faces were just about touching. "Shut your mouth! You don't get to talk right now. I can promise you that if this happens again, my wife won't be coming over here. Because I'll be over here first and kill you myself. Keep that in mind, you dirty son of a bitch!"
I followed Tom back home, and he dealt with the little girls to distract them so they wouldn't be frightened. I went inside and did my best to assist Jenny in patching up Charlie. Seems like Watson had cut the dog with his weed wacker. When she got done, we all sat outside and had a beer.
"He's gonna be OK," Jenny told us.
"Yes, but are you OK?" I asked.
Tom chuckled. "Damn, girlfriend, you were on fire."
"There's no excuse for what he did, no one should hurt a dog," she said
I nodded. "You said earlier that someone accused you of not doing a good enough job. What a load of crap. Dogs are man's best friend, but no dog in the world could have a better friend or protector than Jenny."
"Amen," said Tom, and he took a long swig of beer.
When I drove up to their house, I saw the girls playing out in the yard with the dogs. Normally Jenny would rush out to greet me, but for the first time this didn't happen. I felt concerned, but figured she must be busy inside. I got out and said hello to the girls, and then went inside to find Jenny in the middle of a heated conversation on the phone.
"I'm doing the best I can out here!" she shouted. "I have 40 dogs here right now, and I feed them and provide for them and do my very best to find homes for them. I really don't appreciate you saying crap like that about me, and if you're going to, how about saying it to my face instead of posting it on Facebook. And one more thing--" Jenny stopped mid-sentence, and just stared at the phone in disbelief. "I can't believe it. She hung up on me!"
"Who did?"
"This dumb bitch named Heidi. I had someone go back on a contract I had for an adopted dog, and she posted on Facebook that I wasn't doing a good enough job and that I should go and physically check out a home before I give a dog away."
"What?"
She let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Bill, where are my manners. Welcome home." She threw her arms around me and squeezed tight. "You're a sight for sore eyes. I needed a good friend right about now."
"And you've got one. Jenny, don't listen to that stupid woman, she obviously doesn't know what she's talking about. You do so much for these dogs, you go way above and beyond. Talk about pay it forward. I seriously doubt there is anyone in the world that takes care of dogs or loves dogs as much as you."
"I don't know about all that. Come here, I want to show you something." She led me over to her computer, and turned the screen for me to see. I was horrified by the sight of a dog with a huge fish hook in its snout. "There are insane people using dogs as live bait to catch big fish."
"What?"
"It's true! This is absolutely unacceptable behavior and should be considered heinous cruelty to animals. I can't believe we should have to tell someone this is wrong."
"Holy crap."
"Can you even imagine the fear these poor animals must be in the last minutes of their lives." Tears welled up in her eyes. "No living being deserves to be treated and used this way! Dammit!" She plopped down in her chair, looking defeated. "Sometimes I feel like with all I do, I am barely making a dent."
I gently rubbed her shoulders. "Nonsense, you are wonderful. You do so much good, I can't even begin to tell you. The love you show, the sacrifices you make. Listen, I brought beer and cigarettes and some thick steaks. And a big bag of dog biscuits for the pooches. I'm going to make you dinner and cheer you up. Where's Tom?"
"He's over at the neighbor's again, that bastard is causing us trouble every single day. Running customers off, building over our property line. I think Tom may shoot him before long."
"Let's hope not," I said. She got up and led me outside so we could check on the dogs and the kids. I had to get the stuff I brought out of the car anyway.
Jenny stopped and did a head count. "We have some new dogs. That one is John Wayne, and that one over there is Mr. Tom Hanks. The little one next to him is his brother Jim Hanks."
"You like naming them after movie actors, don't you?"
"Yep." She smiled, then looked a bit worried. "Where's Charlie?"
"Who?"
"Charlie McCarthy, he's a newcomer, a beagle. You'll like him."
Right about then, Tom came sauntering up. "Bill-doggie!" he yelled when he saw me. "Come here, bro." He grabbed me and hugged me tight. "How's my brother from another mother?"
"Great Tom, how are you?"
"Ready for a beer."
"I brought a 12 pack."
He grinned. "One of the things I love about you the most. Hey, I was just talking to our asshole neighbor. I think he makes his goal in life to harrass us."
Jenny interrupted. "Tom, where is Charlie?"
"I think I saw him in the woods when I was headed over to talk to Mr. Asshole Watson."
"He didn't go over there, did he?" Just as Jenny completed her sentence, we heard a dog yelp and cry from distance. "That's Charlie!" she cried, and ran into the house.
"Where's she going?" I asked.
Tom shook his head, and in a flash Jenny came back out of the house carrying Tom's shotgun. She ran past us at almost superhuman speed, and we ran after her. About one minute later, we were at their property line, and Charlie was laying on the ground bleeding. Their neighbor Watson was standing over the dog with a weed wacker, and Jenny took all her momentum from running and used the shotgun like a battering ram to knock Watson on his butt. "What'd you do to my dog?"
Watson was on the ground, stunned but stubborn. "He came onto my property."
Jenny was incredulous. "He came onto your property? Oh my God!"
"I had to teach him a lesson!"
"Did you? Well I guess now I'll have to teach you one, too." She pumped the shotgun and took aim. In the blink of an eye, Tom disarmed her. He swooped in and pulled the gun out of her hands, as Watson pulled himself to his feet. Jenny was in such a fierce state of protective aggressiveness that she was caught off guard by Tom's actions. She was a force to be reckoned with. Talk about irrepressible and irascible! When Watson was on his feet again, she shook her head no and hit him like a linebacker, knocking him onto the ground once more. "You are so lucky that I have to tend to Charlie's wounds, but trust me you son of a bitch, this isn't over." She picked up Charlie gently then began to run back for the house.
Watson got to his feet again. "You need to put those dogs and that wife of yours on a leash, and--"
Tom interrupted, leaning menacingly into Watson so that their faces were just about touching. "Shut your mouth! You don't get to talk right now. I can promise you that if this happens again, my wife won't be coming over here. Because I'll be over here first and kill you myself. Keep that in mind, you dirty son of a bitch!"
I followed Tom back home, and he dealt with the little girls to distract them so they wouldn't be frightened. I went inside and did my best to assist Jenny in patching up Charlie. Seems like Watson had cut the dog with his weed wacker. When she got done, we all sat outside and had a beer.
"He's gonna be OK," Jenny told us.
"Yes, but are you OK?" I asked.
Tom chuckled. "Damn, girlfriend, you were on fire."
"There's no excuse for what he did, no one should hurt a dog," she said
I nodded. "You said earlier that someone accused you of not doing a good enough job. What a load of crap. Dogs are man's best friend, but no dog in the world could have a better friend or protector than Jenny."
"Amen," said Tom, and he took a long swig of beer.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
NEAR DEATH
I had been working with Andy, the crazed paranoid driver, for a few weeks now shuttling cars from Florida to Texas and back. Basically, I was serving as "chase" driver to Andy, following him one way then picking him up and driving him back for another pick up. I did not enjoy his company one little bit, but the money was good so I couldn't say no.
He had just delivered a cargo van to Waco, Texas. I was waiting for him in a minivan, which Riff had assigned to follow him. He pulled into the parking lot where I waited driving a large truck, with a trailer attached to the back of it. Andy got out of the car and swaggered over to me. "Good morning, puss face."
"What's this? Aren't you supposed to ride back with me to Ft. Lauderdale?"
"Change of plans, man. I got this truck and trailer to take, so you just follow me back."
"Wait a second, did Riff assign this?"
"No idiot, I got the order from another company. We don't tell Riff about it, right? Right?!"
"What do you think you're up to, Andy?"
"Shut up and do as your told. And don't you dare bring my Aunt Bessie into it." He poked his finger into my ribs. "You know it was funny, and you know just what I'm talking about."
"It wasn't funny at all."
He poked me again. "You have to admit, it was a little funny."
I stared at him with disgust. "Andy, you mixed extra strength laxative in my drink. I crapped my pants, then couldn't get far from a toilet all day."
He bent over and brayed with laughter. "Hilarious!"
"No, it's a rotten thing to do to someone. Especially someone like me who has digestive issues."
"Come on, don't be a prick, it was pretty funny." He began to poke me in the ribs once again, but this time I grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Then I spun him around, pinned his arm to his back, and slammed him face first into the side of the trailer. "Hey man, be cool!"
I was trying to control my temper and spoke softly. "I am very cool right now."
"No you're not, you're acting like a maniac."
I let him go and then pointed my finger in his face. "Do not touch me again. Got it?" I turned on my heel and headed for the minivan.
"OK Sally, see if you are man enough to keep up with me. I was up all night drinking, and I've had five cups of coffee and four of those 5 hour alert shots. I am wired for sound, and don't you forget it."
I began to follow Andy as he took the back roads from Waco to Houston. Once there, he got on I-10 east and we were headed for Florida. I was listening to music and trying to relax, but was still tense over what he had done. I tried to stay clear of this guy, but circumstances brought us together more often than I cared for. He is so volatile and unpredictable. And he brought out a side of me that I didn't like, a perfect example being me throwing him against the trailer. That's not me, that is not the way I behave. But he pushes me so far that I feel something akin to hatred for the guy. He makes me nuts.
Suddenly, I saw the trailer fishtail. Then the truck Andy was driving began to swerve. Both the truck and the trailer were swerving, and each fishtail move made a wider arc. I stared in amazement, wondering what this lunatic driver had done to cause the wild swinging to begin. And then, the truck flipped, followed closely by the trailer. It rolled several times before coming to a stop on its side, and I pulled off to the shoulder and quickly ran for the truck.
As I neared it, I could clearly see that Andy was unconscious inside the cab of the truck. He had what appeared to be a burning joint hanging from his lips. I could smell gasoline, and knew that disaster was just a whisper away. I tried very hard to open the door, but it was jammed shut. So I kicked the window until it broke, and then cleared away the glass so I could reach in. By this time, a fire had started, and I was feeling frantic about getting him out and moving as far away as possible.
It was a difficult task, but I was able to pull him free of the burning truck. That's when I first noticed that his head was bleeding profusely. A woman who had pulled over behind me ran up with her cell phone to her ear. "I'm calling 911," she said.
"Thanks, but I have to get him right to a hospital or I think he might not make it."
"There's one fairly near here. Go down three exits, get off, turn right, and go about five miles."
"Thanks, thanks a lot," I told her. I yelled out my name and my cell phone number as I carried Andy to the minivan. The woman entered my cell phone into her own, so she could contact me or give it to the authorities who would be there soon.
I know that conventional wisdom would be to let the ambulance come and get Andy and rush him to the hospital. But as a driving fool, I can promise you that I went faster and more skillfully than any ambulance ever could. I was determined to save his life if at all possible. Though there was absolutely nothing about this guy that I liked. Not even remotely.
Just over ten minutes later, I pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance and carried Andy inside. I had to wait five hours, during which time the police called me and then showed up at the hospital. Soon after I finished my report with the police officers, the Dr. came out to tell me that Andy would survive, but he was going to need a lot of rest and rehab. "Toxicology told us that he was as high as a kite," explained the Doc. "That may be what saved him."
"Really?"
"He was extremely relaxed, so he didn't tense up on impact. One thing is for sure, though: if you hadn't brought him right over, he never would have survived. He owes you his life."
Those were words I had never heard before. Someone owes me their life. But why did it have to be Andy? I am quite certain that he won't be the least bit grateful, and that as soon as he fully recovers he'll be trying to slip me some more laxative, or worse.
He had just delivered a cargo van to Waco, Texas. I was waiting for him in a minivan, which Riff had assigned to follow him. He pulled into the parking lot where I waited driving a large truck, with a trailer attached to the back of it. Andy got out of the car and swaggered over to me. "Good morning, puss face."
"What's this? Aren't you supposed to ride back with me to Ft. Lauderdale?"
"Change of plans, man. I got this truck and trailer to take, so you just follow me back."
"Wait a second, did Riff assign this?"
"No idiot, I got the order from another company. We don't tell Riff about it, right? Right?!"
"What do you think you're up to, Andy?"
"Shut up and do as your told. And don't you dare bring my Aunt Bessie into it." He poked his finger into my ribs. "You know it was funny, and you know just what I'm talking about."
"It wasn't funny at all."
He poked me again. "You have to admit, it was a little funny."
I stared at him with disgust. "Andy, you mixed extra strength laxative in my drink. I crapped my pants, then couldn't get far from a toilet all day."
He bent over and brayed with laughter. "Hilarious!"
"No, it's a rotten thing to do to someone. Especially someone like me who has digestive issues."
"Come on, don't be a prick, it was pretty funny." He began to poke me in the ribs once again, but this time I grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Then I spun him around, pinned his arm to his back, and slammed him face first into the side of the trailer. "Hey man, be cool!"
I was trying to control my temper and spoke softly. "I am very cool right now."
"No you're not, you're acting like a maniac."
I let him go and then pointed my finger in his face. "Do not touch me again. Got it?" I turned on my heel and headed for the minivan.
"OK Sally, see if you are man enough to keep up with me. I was up all night drinking, and I've had five cups of coffee and four of those 5 hour alert shots. I am wired for sound, and don't you forget it."
I began to follow Andy as he took the back roads from Waco to Houston. Once there, he got on I-10 east and we were headed for Florida. I was listening to music and trying to relax, but was still tense over what he had done. I tried to stay clear of this guy, but circumstances brought us together more often than I cared for. He is so volatile and unpredictable. And he brought out a side of me that I didn't like, a perfect example being me throwing him against the trailer. That's not me, that is not the way I behave. But he pushes me so far that I feel something akin to hatred for the guy. He makes me nuts.
Suddenly, I saw the trailer fishtail. Then the truck Andy was driving began to swerve. Both the truck and the trailer were swerving, and each fishtail move made a wider arc. I stared in amazement, wondering what this lunatic driver had done to cause the wild swinging to begin. And then, the truck flipped, followed closely by the trailer. It rolled several times before coming to a stop on its side, and I pulled off to the shoulder and quickly ran for the truck.
As I neared it, I could clearly see that Andy was unconscious inside the cab of the truck. He had what appeared to be a burning joint hanging from his lips. I could smell gasoline, and knew that disaster was just a whisper away. I tried very hard to open the door, but it was jammed shut. So I kicked the window until it broke, and then cleared away the glass so I could reach in. By this time, a fire had started, and I was feeling frantic about getting him out and moving as far away as possible.
It was a difficult task, but I was able to pull him free of the burning truck. That's when I first noticed that his head was bleeding profusely. A woman who had pulled over behind me ran up with her cell phone to her ear. "I'm calling 911," she said.
"Thanks, but I have to get him right to a hospital or I think he might not make it."
"There's one fairly near here. Go down three exits, get off, turn right, and go about five miles."
"Thanks, thanks a lot," I told her. I yelled out my name and my cell phone number as I carried Andy to the minivan. The woman entered my cell phone into her own, so she could contact me or give it to the authorities who would be there soon.
I know that conventional wisdom would be to let the ambulance come and get Andy and rush him to the hospital. But as a driving fool, I can promise you that I went faster and more skillfully than any ambulance ever could. I was determined to save his life if at all possible. Though there was absolutely nothing about this guy that I liked. Not even remotely.
Just over ten minutes later, I pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance and carried Andy inside. I had to wait five hours, during which time the police called me and then showed up at the hospital. Soon after I finished my report with the police officers, the Dr. came out to tell me that Andy would survive, but he was going to need a lot of rest and rehab. "Toxicology told us that he was as high as a kite," explained the Doc. "That may be what saved him."
"Really?"
"He was extremely relaxed, so he didn't tense up on impact. One thing is for sure, though: if you hadn't brought him right over, he never would have survived. He owes you his life."
Those were words I had never heard before. Someone owes me their life. But why did it have to be Andy? I am quite certain that he won't be the least bit grateful, and that as soon as he fully recovers he'll be trying to slip me some more laxative, or worse.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
FLIRTING IN A DINER
I was sitting in the Diner watching a young waitress move
about. I don’t know how young she was,
but I found myself hoping she wasn’t too young for me. She had been flirting with me, no doubt about
it, and I thought she was very attractive.
I kept on finding new things to order just so I could stay at my table
and appreciate her. She walked back over
to me carrying a coffee pot. “More
coffee?” she asked.
“I don’t want to get too wired.”
“Right, all that energy and nothing to do with it. Or is there?”
“You get right to the point,” I said.
“Life is too short.
You’re cute, I’m hot, why not?”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Does it really matter?” she wanted to know.`
“My guess would be late 20’s, and even that might be too
young for me.”
“Why? Come on, live a
little.”
I sighed. “How old?”
“I turned 21 last Tuesday, so I’m legal.”
“Check please. I’m
not a cradle robber.”
“Even if I promised to make all of your most erotic
fantasies come true?”
I paused, then said, “I’m
flattered that you’d even consider me, but… no.”
This beautiful girl shrugged and walked away. I felt a hand swipe across the back of my
head, and heard a familiar voice say, “Just
what in the hell do you think you’re doing, Mister Bill?”
I smiled warmly and turned to see Karen standing behind me. The love of my life. My soulmate.
My gay ex-girlfriend. “Hi, Karen.”
She seemed stern. “Answer
the question. Why did you come to my Café
to hit on an innocent young waitress, way too young for you old man?”
“I thought I was in a Diner.”
“It’s a Café, and don’t try to change the subject.” She had sneaked up on me, and now she came
around to sit across the table from me. “What’s
up with you?”
“I came to see you, and you weren’t here.”
“So you decided to hit on my staff?”
“Don’t be mad. I came
to make peace. I didn’t like how we left
things last time I was here.”
Her face softened, and the smile that separated her lips was
pure sunshine. “I felt bad, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I sure didn’t
mean to send you away without a meal.”
“It was my fault.”
“It was both of our fault, and you know it. I can take some of the blame, too.”
“I was a jerk.”
“That’s enough, that’s in the past and the subject is
closed. Agreed?”
“Yes ma’am. I will
learn to be more understanding and tolerant of Cheryl.”
“There is no more Cheryl.”
“What? Since when?”
“She’s gone, let’s just leave it at that for now. We might discuss it more later. Like over dinner tonight.”
“Just you and me?”
“Ask me out on a date, silly man.”
I felt a tingling sensation.
“Karen, will you go out with me tonight?”
She looked up at the ceiling as if she were thinking it
over, then laughed and said, “Yes, but
you have to get me home by midnight.”
I felt so warm and good all over. “I am really glad you’re not mad at me
anymore.”
She reached across the table and took my hands. “Listen here, you. I love you, and I always will. You are very special to me.”
“Can I be your boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “One
step at a time. Dinner tonight, OK? But one thing I know for sure is that I want
you to be a bigger part of my life. I
need you, Bill.” She squeezed my hands
in hers.
I swallowed hard. “I
need you too, Karen.”
Friday, August 31, 2012
DADDY, DADDY, DADDY
"I know, Riff, I know, but there is only so much I can do. I'm only one man."
"A moronic man!" shouted Riff into the phone. He was yelling at me as I drove to make my next car delivery, and I was growing very weary very fast of his grouchy demeanor. My boss was not a pleasant man. "You were supposed to be in Tallahassee to deliver that car two hours ago."
"Yes, but I ran into a huge traffic jam on Interstate 10 when I passed through Louisiana because of Issac."
"Issac? Who is Issac, your boyfriend?"
"No Riff, Issac is the hurricane that hit Louisiana a few days ago."
"I think you mean tropical storm."
"Whatever you want to call it, people who left their homes are trying to return, and its a huge mess. Look, I called the man I'm taking the car to, and he was very understanding."
"You're lying."
"No sir, I'm on the level. Why would I lie?"
"I don't know, why would I screw my own cousin?" he bellowed.
I paused for a few seconds. "Well I... you got me there, I don't have an answer for that one. I'll call you once I've delivered."
Just under an hour later, I was pulling off the highway into the outskirts of Tallahassee. I called the customer, Mr. Duffy, to say I'd be there in a few minutes. He appreciated the heads up call.
When I pulled into the driveway, he came walking over to me from the front porch. I got out of the car and introduced myself. He reached out to shake my hand, which not all customers do. "Got caught in that traffic in Louisiana, huh?"
"Yes sir" I said. "I should have tried to go further north around it.
"Well, if you were coming from Dallas, it would have been a lot far north and way out of your way. Doesn't matter to me if you are a few hours late."
"Thanks for understanding."
Suddenly, a young girl came running down the sidewalk at full speed screaming "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" I winced as she ran into Mr. Duffy from behind, with both of her arms extended like a battering ram. She looked to be about ten years old, but she was beefy. Her father barely seemed to notice.
"So this is my new car, eh? It's a beauty."
"Daddy! Daddy!" she squealed.
"Its very nice," I agreed.
"Daddy!" She began to beat on his back. "Daddy!"
He ignored the girl completely and began to let his hand glide down the side contours of the car, as if checking out the areodynamics. "Nice build, good shape. I bet she just swims down the road."
"Swims?" I asked.
"Yep. Backstroke I'll wager."
"Daddy! Daddy!" The little girl grabbed onto her father's arm as if it were a thick piece of rope and began to hang with her full weight. "Daddy!"
"Good gas mileage?" he asked.
"Very good."
"Daddy!" She began to climb up his arm, hand over hand.
"Please tell me it has a nice stereo?"
"I played my favorite George Strait CD coming across the panhandle of Florida. Good sound," I assured him.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" She came off his arm, then grabbed his left hand and began to chew furiously on the ends of his fingernails. Now I've seen many people chew their nails over the years, but never once have I seen anyone chew someone else's.
Mr. Duffy looked at me very seriously. "Now you did bring me the registration and insurance?"
"Of course, it's all here in the car's glovebox. Ah, Mr. Duffy, I don't mind waiting if you need to see what your daughter wants."
"Dad-deeeeeeeeeee!"
"Who, her? I don't care what she wants. When the kids scream and carry on we ignore them. That behavior is not how we operate around here."
"Daddy!"
"How many sets of keys do you have for me?" he asked.
"Two, right here." And as I handed him both sets of keys and remote door locks, the girl turned and ran to the other side of the yard. Then she turned around and rushed back towards us with both arms stretched out in front of her. Just like when I arrived, only she was coming much further much faster.
And she was facing her father, and with her height, when she made contact it was in an extremely sensitive area. Mr. Duffy bent over in pain, as he had been looking away and didn't see her coming. I saw it, but what was I supposed to do, tackle the girl?
"Now you have my attention," he said to his daughter. "You know that you never, ever hit Daddy in the jingle bells. That is a no-no. Even if the house is on fire, even if the dog is drowning out in the pond, no jingle bells. Got it?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Now you trot on into the house, we're going to have a conversation about this."
"No, Daddy, no, I don't want to have a talk. You talk too long."
"Well now, maybe you'll think about that next time you go for the jingle bells."
"But I never, ever will."
"That's right. Now go wait for me in my study."
The little girl skipped inside like she didn't have a care in the world. I smiled and said, "Kids can be so lovable."
Mr. Duffy looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Do you really believe that? You must not have kids."
"No, none of my own, but--"
"Neither do I. That one and her brother are my wife's from a previous marriage. Frankly, I could do without them. I never wanted to have kids. But, it came in the bargain with my wife. The woman can be a holy terror sometimes, but buddy, that woman can do the polka."
"Polka?"
"The marischino cha-cha."
"Cha-cha?"
He demonstrated the twist. "You know, the tropicana tango."
"She likes to dance," I concluded.
"In the bedroom. The horizontal mambo."
"Gotcha." He signed the paperwork, I gave him a copy, and I was off to catch a city bus. I assume he had a long talk ahead in his study.
"A moronic man!" shouted Riff into the phone. He was yelling at me as I drove to make my next car delivery, and I was growing very weary very fast of his grouchy demeanor. My boss was not a pleasant man. "You were supposed to be in Tallahassee to deliver that car two hours ago."
"Yes, but I ran into a huge traffic jam on Interstate 10 when I passed through Louisiana because of Issac."
"Issac? Who is Issac, your boyfriend?"
"No Riff, Issac is the hurricane that hit Louisiana a few days ago."
"I think you mean tropical storm."
"Whatever you want to call it, people who left their homes are trying to return, and its a huge mess. Look, I called the man I'm taking the car to, and he was very understanding."
"You're lying."
"No sir, I'm on the level. Why would I lie?"
"I don't know, why would I screw my own cousin?" he bellowed.
I paused for a few seconds. "Well I... you got me there, I don't have an answer for that one. I'll call you once I've delivered."
Just under an hour later, I was pulling off the highway into the outskirts of Tallahassee. I called the customer, Mr. Duffy, to say I'd be there in a few minutes. He appreciated the heads up call.
When I pulled into the driveway, he came walking over to me from the front porch. I got out of the car and introduced myself. He reached out to shake my hand, which not all customers do. "Got caught in that traffic in Louisiana, huh?"
"Yes sir" I said. "I should have tried to go further north around it.
"Well, if you were coming from Dallas, it would have been a lot far north and way out of your way. Doesn't matter to me if you are a few hours late."
"Thanks for understanding."
Suddenly, a young girl came running down the sidewalk at full speed screaming "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" I winced as she ran into Mr. Duffy from behind, with both of her arms extended like a battering ram. She looked to be about ten years old, but she was beefy. Her father barely seemed to notice.
"So this is my new car, eh? It's a beauty."
"Daddy! Daddy!" she squealed.
"Its very nice," I agreed.
"Daddy!" She began to beat on his back. "Daddy!"
He ignored the girl completely and began to let his hand glide down the side contours of the car, as if checking out the areodynamics. "Nice build, good shape. I bet she just swims down the road."
"Swims?" I asked.
"Yep. Backstroke I'll wager."
"Daddy! Daddy!" The little girl grabbed onto her father's arm as if it were a thick piece of rope and began to hang with her full weight. "Daddy!"
"Good gas mileage?" he asked.
"Very good."
"Daddy!" She began to climb up his arm, hand over hand.
"Please tell me it has a nice stereo?"
"I played my favorite George Strait CD coming across the panhandle of Florida. Good sound," I assured him.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" She came off his arm, then grabbed his left hand and began to chew furiously on the ends of his fingernails. Now I've seen many people chew their nails over the years, but never once have I seen anyone chew someone else's.
Mr. Duffy looked at me very seriously. "Now you did bring me the registration and insurance?"
"Of course, it's all here in the car's glovebox. Ah, Mr. Duffy, I don't mind waiting if you need to see what your daughter wants."
"Dad-deeeeeeeeeee!"
"Who, her? I don't care what she wants. When the kids scream and carry on we ignore them. That behavior is not how we operate around here."
"Daddy!"
"How many sets of keys do you have for me?" he asked.
"Two, right here." And as I handed him both sets of keys and remote door locks, the girl turned and ran to the other side of the yard. Then she turned around and rushed back towards us with both arms stretched out in front of her. Just like when I arrived, only she was coming much further much faster.
And she was facing her father, and with her height, when she made contact it was in an extremely sensitive area. Mr. Duffy bent over in pain, as he had been looking away and didn't see her coming. I saw it, but what was I supposed to do, tackle the girl?
"Now you have my attention," he said to his daughter. "You know that you never, ever hit Daddy in the jingle bells. That is a no-no. Even if the house is on fire, even if the dog is drowning out in the pond, no jingle bells. Got it?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Now you trot on into the house, we're going to have a conversation about this."
"No, Daddy, no, I don't want to have a talk. You talk too long."
"Well now, maybe you'll think about that next time you go for the jingle bells."
"But I never, ever will."
"That's right. Now go wait for me in my study."
The little girl skipped inside like she didn't have a care in the world. I smiled and said, "Kids can be so lovable."
Mr. Duffy looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Do you really believe that? You must not have kids."
"No, none of my own, but--"
"Neither do I. That one and her brother are my wife's from a previous marriage. Frankly, I could do without them. I never wanted to have kids. But, it came in the bargain with my wife. The woman can be a holy terror sometimes, but buddy, that woman can do the polka."
"Polka?"
"The marischino cha-cha."
"Cha-cha?"
He demonstrated the twist. "You know, the tropicana tango."
"She likes to dance," I concluded.
"In the bedroom. The horizontal mambo."
"Gotcha." He signed the paperwork, I gave him a copy, and I was off to catch a city bus. I assume he had a long talk ahead in his study.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
BROWNIES & TEA
I was very excited as I saw the city limit sign that said I had entered San Jose, California. I had brought this car from Georgia, and all the way across the country I was feeling giddy. I kept on asking people "Do you know the way to San Jose?" Mostly, their reaction was just to stare at me.
But the main reason for my excitement was that I was going to get to stay over at my buddy Giovanni's house with his family. He goes by "G" for short, and he and I are very close. But with all the friends I stop off and see as I travel around the USA, he is the one I get to see the least. In fact, the last time I had come here, he and the Fam were on their way to New York City. Now I knew they would be home, waiting just for me.
I pulled into the driveway, and his beautiful wife Kim came running out to greet me. She jumped in the air and I grabbed her for a hug. "Bill! I can't believe you're here."
"I can barely believe it myself."
"Listen, G is still at work, and I've got to go get the kids at their Preschool. Go inside and make yourself totally at home, you know the routine. I'll be back in a little while."
"OK."
"Sorry, I have to rush."
"No worries, you do what you need to do." And Kim hopped into her car and left. So I went into the house, and was immediately wrapped up in warm memories. I could feel a big smile on my face. And I could hear my stomach growling, as it was 3pm and I had not eaten all day. So I followed the enticing aroma I detected into the kitchen. And there I found a plate full of big brownies. I was just sure that Kim wouldn't mind, she had just told me to help myself.
As I ate, I concluded that this had to be the best brownie I had ever eaten in my life. So much so that I soon found myself eating a second brownie. I am sure that being hungry and then filling up on brownies is not the wisest choice I could have made, but... oh well. The brownies left my mouth very sticky, and I noticed a cup of hot tea sitting ready on the counter. So I picked it up and took a few swigs. Then I blew on it, took a big drink from the cup, and washed it around in my mouth to clear up all those clumps of brownie crumbs.
I walked to the sliding glass doors that led out to the swimming pool. I stared at the pool. The more I looked at it, the more I thought that I could not ever remember it being so deeply blue. Very unusual. And then I made my way back through the kitchen. I heard music, and felt suddenly compelled to find the source of the music. It was maybe the best music I had ever heard in my life. It started to go very slowly, and I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Oddly wonderful.
The next thing I can remember, Kim was standing over me asking what the heck I was doing. I was crouched down on the floor in her coat closet. "Bill, what are you doing in there? I've been looking all over the house for you."
"Who?"
"You."
"Me? Why?"
"Because I couldn't find you." She pointed a finger at me. "Bill, did you eat one of my brownies?"
"No, no. I had two."
"Two? Those are heavily infused with high grade pot and hash oil. All pharmaceutical grade."
"Hash who?"
She headed for the kitchen, and I followed her like a lost puppy. She picked up the tea cup which had a tiny bit of liquid left in it. "Did you drink my tea?"
"Yes Mommy, I hope it was OK."
"Bill, that was mushroom tea. As in magic mushrooms? G and I got all this stuff to treat you with, we were going to surprise you. We didn't mean for you to have it so soon, all alone."
"I didn't mean for me, either. I didn't mean. I'm not mean. I'm lean."
Kim laughed. "You're silly." There was a knock at the front door, and I quickly bolted for the back bedroom and hid. I remember trying to climb under one of the kid's beds. To be honest, I do not have a clear memory of everything that happened over the next few hours. Kim and G told me a lot of what I'll share here the next day, and showed me footage of me doing some strange things recorded by various Nanny Cams hidden around the house. You have young kids, you use babysitters, guess you've got to have Nanny Cams these days.
After a little while, Kim came looking for me again. She was drinking a cup of tea herself, and munching on a brownie. "You are high as a kite, Bill. I can't leave you up there all by yourself, I'm coming up to join you."
"Then laugh!" I demanded.
"What?" she asked.
"Laugh. Just laugh." I began to sing. "I love to laugh, loud and long and clear."
Kim smiled and shook her head. "That's from MARY POPPINS, the kids love that movie."
"Yes! Yes! A spoonful of sugar! MARY POPPINS and Uncle Albert and tea parties on the ceiling."
"OK honey, just calm down, I'll be up there soon."
"Your kids love MARY POPPINS. Oh no!"
"What's wrong?"
"Your kids can't see me like this. I think I may bees a little bitsy messed up."
"I think you're a lot messed up. But that's why I took the kids to stay at my parents house tonight. So we could all get messed up together."
"But, but, but I don't do this anymore."
"Do what?" asked Kim.
"You know, this? Wait! How did you get to Birmingham? When did you arrive?"
"Bill, sweetie, we're in San Jose."
I began singing again. "Do you know the way to San Jose!"
Things got even fuzzier in my brain after that. I recall that I went out and felt that I must jump into the pool. I guess I let out all of my breath so I could sink to the bottom, and finally Kim had to poke at me with the pool cleaning net to stir me so I'd come to the surface for air.
I kept on asking for more brownies, and Kim told me that I had eaten enough for a while. The suggested dosage was half a brownie at a time. Who knew?
Based on the footage from the Nanny Cam, after I dried off and changed clothes I began trying to do interpretative ballet moves to the beat of the techno music Kim was playing. She seemed to be seeing streams go by, and tried to reach out and grab them. And then I went down on the couch and began trying to burrow my head down deep in between the cushions. You'd think by watching that I was digging for some valuable buried treasure.
I began to shout that I was hot, and Kim told me to go and stand in front of the big box fan in the living room. I did so, and then pulled off my shirt and apologized for my bare fat belly. And then I lay down on the floor on my stomach with my head just inches from the fan. I do remember that, because when I closed my eyes and felt that breeze blowing hard on my head, I thought I was flying. And I looked down and it seemed I was flying over a city that was made up of purple and green neon lights. Those were the only two colors, and boy were they ever vibrant and bright.
When G got home, I wasn't really too aware of much anymore. On the Nanny Cam footage, I saw I kept on hugging him and telling him that I love him. And of course I do, but not nearly as much as I was professing at that moment in time.
The next morning when I got up, I went straight to the bathroom. When I came out, G was waiting for me with a large mug of coffee. "How you doing, buddy?" he asked.
"I'm not too sure."
He laughed. "You were flat out tripping balls last night."
"I was? I don't do this stuff."
"What stuff?"
"All of this. Pot, hash, mushrooms. Any of that stuff I did is in the past for me."
"Seriously."
"Heck yeah. I don't think I can handle it, do you?"
"Yes. And you ate another brownie and had another cup of tea."
"You've got to be kidding?"
"Nope. I guess that's just standard practice for a driving fool."
Well, actually... not so much.
But the main reason for my excitement was that I was going to get to stay over at my buddy Giovanni's house with his family. He goes by "G" for short, and he and I are very close. But with all the friends I stop off and see as I travel around the USA, he is the one I get to see the least. In fact, the last time I had come here, he and the Fam were on their way to New York City. Now I knew they would be home, waiting just for me.
I pulled into the driveway, and his beautiful wife Kim came running out to greet me. She jumped in the air and I grabbed her for a hug. "Bill! I can't believe you're here."
"I can barely believe it myself."
"Listen, G is still at work, and I've got to go get the kids at their Preschool. Go inside and make yourself totally at home, you know the routine. I'll be back in a little while."
"OK."
"Sorry, I have to rush."
"No worries, you do what you need to do." And Kim hopped into her car and left. So I went into the house, and was immediately wrapped up in warm memories. I could feel a big smile on my face. And I could hear my stomach growling, as it was 3pm and I had not eaten all day. So I followed the enticing aroma I detected into the kitchen. And there I found a plate full of big brownies. I was just sure that Kim wouldn't mind, she had just told me to help myself.
As I ate, I concluded that this had to be the best brownie I had ever eaten in my life. So much so that I soon found myself eating a second brownie. I am sure that being hungry and then filling up on brownies is not the wisest choice I could have made, but... oh well. The brownies left my mouth very sticky, and I noticed a cup of hot tea sitting ready on the counter. So I picked it up and took a few swigs. Then I blew on it, took a big drink from the cup, and washed it around in my mouth to clear up all those clumps of brownie crumbs.
I walked to the sliding glass doors that led out to the swimming pool. I stared at the pool. The more I looked at it, the more I thought that I could not ever remember it being so deeply blue. Very unusual. And then I made my way back through the kitchen. I heard music, and felt suddenly compelled to find the source of the music. It was maybe the best music I had ever heard in my life. It started to go very slowly, and I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Oddly wonderful.
The next thing I can remember, Kim was standing over me asking what the heck I was doing. I was crouched down on the floor in her coat closet. "Bill, what are you doing in there? I've been looking all over the house for you."
"Who?"
"You."
"Me? Why?"
"Because I couldn't find you." She pointed a finger at me. "Bill, did you eat one of my brownies?"
"No, no. I had two."
"Two? Those are heavily infused with high grade pot and hash oil. All pharmaceutical grade."
"Hash who?"
She headed for the kitchen, and I followed her like a lost puppy. She picked up the tea cup which had a tiny bit of liquid left in it. "Did you drink my tea?"
"Yes Mommy, I hope it was OK."
"Bill, that was mushroom tea. As in magic mushrooms? G and I got all this stuff to treat you with, we were going to surprise you. We didn't mean for you to have it so soon, all alone."
"I didn't mean for me, either. I didn't mean. I'm not mean. I'm lean."
Kim laughed. "You're silly." There was a knock at the front door, and I quickly bolted for the back bedroom and hid. I remember trying to climb under one of the kid's beds. To be honest, I do not have a clear memory of everything that happened over the next few hours. Kim and G told me a lot of what I'll share here the next day, and showed me footage of me doing some strange things recorded by various Nanny Cams hidden around the house. You have young kids, you use babysitters, guess you've got to have Nanny Cams these days.
After a little while, Kim came looking for me again. She was drinking a cup of tea herself, and munching on a brownie. "You are high as a kite, Bill. I can't leave you up there all by yourself, I'm coming up to join you."
"Then laugh!" I demanded.
"What?" she asked.
"Laugh. Just laugh." I began to sing. "I love to laugh, loud and long and clear."
Kim smiled and shook her head. "That's from MARY POPPINS, the kids love that movie."
"Yes! Yes! A spoonful of sugar! MARY POPPINS and Uncle Albert and tea parties on the ceiling."
"OK honey, just calm down, I'll be up there soon."
"Your kids love MARY POPPINS. Oh no!"
"What's wrong?"
"Your kids can't see me like this. I think I may bees a little bitsy messed up."
"I think you're a lot messed up. But that's why I took the kids to stay at my parents house tonight. So we could all get messed up together."
"But, but, but I don't do this anymore."
"Do what?" asked Kim.
"You know, this? Wait! How did you get to Birmingham? When did you arrive?"
"Bill, sweetie, we're in San Jose."
I began singing again. "Do you know the way to San Jose!"
Things got even fuzzier in my brain after that. I recall that I went out and felt that I must jump into the pool. I guess I let out all of my breath so I could sink to the bottom, and finally Kim had to poke at me with the pool cleaning net to stir me so I'd come to the surface for air.
I kept on asking for more brownies, and Kim told me that I had eaten enough for a while. The suggested dosage was half a brownie at a time. Who knew?
Based on the footage from the Nanny Cam, after I dried off and changed clothes I began trying to do interpretative ballet moves to the beat of the techno music Kim was playing. She seemed to be seeing streams go by, and tried to reach out and grab them. And then I went down on the couch and began trying to burrow my head down deep in between the cushions. You'd think by watching that I was digging for some valuable buried treasure.
I began to shout that I was hot, and Kim told me to go and stand in front of the big box fan in the living room. I did so, and then pulled off my shirt and apologized for my bare fat belly. And then I lay down on the floor on my stomach with my head just inches from the fan. I do remember that, because when I closed my eyes and felt that breeze blowing hard on my head, I thought I was flying. And I looked down and it seemed I was flying over a city that was made up of purple and green neon lights. Those were the only two colors, and boy were they ever vibrant and bright.
When G got home, I wasn't really too aware of much anymore. On the Nanny Cam footage, I saw I kept on hugging him and telling him that I love him. And of course I do, but not nearly as much as I was professing at that moment in time.
The next morning when I got up, I went straight to the bathroom. When I came out, G was waiting for me with a large mug of coffee. "How you doing, buddy?" he asked.
"I'm not too sure."
He laughed. "You were flat out tripping balls last night."
"I was? I don't do this stuff."
"What stuff?"
"All of this. Pot, hash, mushrooms. Any of that stuff I did is in the past for me."
"Seriously."
"Heck yeah. I don't think I can handle it, do you?"
"Yes. And you ate another brownie and had another cup of tea."
"You've got to be kidding?"
"Nope. I guess that's just standard practice for a driving fool."
Well, actually... not so much.
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