[video]
Just read a Peoria Journal Star headline:
Vandals Strike Pekin Cemetery, ahead of Memorial Day.
Which sounds like you’re accusing the vandals of planning this caper to sabotage Memorial Day celebrations at Pekin Cemetery. I’ve never known vandals to be especially calculating. There’s also very little to suggest they have strong feelings about Memorial Day.
I’d let it go as funny phrasing, until the first sentence:
The timing of vandals who worked their way through a vast cemetery overnight could not have been more malicious.
Malicious timing. Meaning, the author thinks the vandals timed their destruction with the intent to do harm. Seriously?
Dear Journal Star,
The Sgt you spoke to said “there’s no rhyme or reason to it.” Stick with that. I know it’s really shitty that someone did this before Memorial Day, but there’s no reason to stir up your readers with baseless insinuation.
When they catch the teenagers who did it, I’m sure their punishment will be harsh enough without you accusing them of conspiracy to commit terrorism.
[video]
Have a drink and throw darts, take a walk, waste money on a cab and go to Denny’s, play video games, Sherlock marathon, Californication marathon, Community marathon, or do something constructive?
My friend Soap is currently trying to convince me to create a character and infiltrate a website for Goth personals. It is very, very tempting.
Mostly, we agreed, to destroy Arkanis. He happened to have the most popular profile on the day we were browsing and making fun of things.
I think Arkanis is my most evil, powerful, and deformed doppelganger. He slipped through from another dimension. A darker dimension…
And if I saw him on the street we’d probably be forced to do battle.
Soap suggested I feed on some of my lesser doppelgangers first, to build my power level and not be vaporized during assimilation.
I agreed. But, as I seek out those terrible battles… I must lay the groundwork to win the war…
Arkanis…
Your days are numbered.
Cody Ross (outfielder, Red Sox) has 22 Runs, 7 HRs and 27 RBIs already this year and he isn’t owned in half of all Yahoo Fantasy Baseball leagues. He looks to be on a tear right now, might want to pick him up for some quick Runs and RBIs.
Also, not nearly as overlooked, but how about the start Freddie Freeman is having in Atlanta?
Find the menu you’re craving.
Awhile back, a drunk guy stole a cab parked in front of a bar. It was a karaoke bar on Main Street called Basket Case, unless I’m mistaken. It was in the news, you probably read about it.
I was not the cab driver that happened to. But I could have been.
I heard something similar happened to a driver from another company up at the Recovery Room. Cab drivers frequently have to step out for a number of reasons throughout the night, like to find a customer who called from a bar. We don’t always lock it up, or even turn off the engine.
These drivers are not naive, totally lazy, or stupid…
We just know that most people, even most criminals, will not fuck with a cab… certainly not an empty one.
Stealing a cab is totally irrational (like most any crime committed against a cab driver because of the risk/reward factor)… they have GPS, easy to spot, the driver will notice quickly and police response time is usually very swift when we call…
And so… yeah, we get a little naive and lazy, play the percentages (meh, nobody’s gonna steal it, I’ll be right back…) and we underestimate stupid.
Most people are cool, even when they’re drunk, but we sometimes forget, very stupid people get drunk too, and their level of drunk stupidity never ceases to amaze. They are the opposite of curve breakers (in this game called Humans)…
Wait, is that even possible? Curve breakers are the smart kids, average kids set the curve, but the kid who gets a zero also breaks the curve, statistically… so is the opposite of a curve breaker another curve breaker on the other end of the spectrum… or the median?
FUCK ME THE MEDIAN!
Sorry. I wrote some of this in the cab… the speed limit was only 25 and I don’t over correct, so everything’s fine…
You may not be an astronaut, kid, you’re not gonna be President, but at least you’re not the guy who jumped in a cab and made it three blocks before he was arrested for vehicle theft and DUI…
I parked my cab downtown in front of one of the major hotels because I had to take a shit.
It was Saturday night, just after 1 AM. The bars on Farmington Road were about to close, the drinkers there, and in neighborhood bars city wide, would either be headed home or downtown (where the bars stay open til 4).
The next three hours were sure to be the most profitable portion of the week.
I was in no particular rush, we were getting busy, but it was still just the calm before the storm and my plan was to be picking up a trip on Farmington Road (a few quick miles away) by 1:30.
I got back in my cab eight minutes later, it’s not like I bring a newspaper, thinking it was strange that the engine wasn’t running and my music wasn’t blasting from the speakers.
I went for the ignition and came up empty. I checked my pockets for the key, already fairly certain I wouldn’t find it…
I looked on the dash, in the cup holder, on the floor, beneath the seats, glanced at the visors, in the middle console and glove box. Then I checked the back seat, and under the seats again, more thoroughly, between the seats where things get lodged forever…
it wasn’t there.
I saw another cab pull up and drive away. I was too preoccupied to spend much time questioning her brief presence.
I retraced my steps, through the lobby, to the men’s room, in the stall, the sink…
No.
The entire search was half-hearted. I knew I’d left the damn thing running. I hadn’t dropped the key. Someone had taken it. I was sure of it.
But there was no sense in it:
Why would anyone take just the key to my cab, not the cab itself or my mp3 player or my cell phone… they just took the key in an effort to fuck me over for no particular reason?
It didn’t add up. Besides that, there were plenty of guests in the lobby, but not a whole lot of pedestrian traffic near my cab, that I’d seen…
I looked behind the desk and saw the dark haired girl who’s so cleverly cute you just go sheepish. Fuck, why now?
“Yeah… this is ridiculous, I realize,” I told the clerk, “but did anyone find or turn in a KIA Soul key?”
Her lips tightened as she nodded gravely “no.” She took out pen and paper and asked if they spelled soul like the music or the city. A fair question.
“I don’t know (I want to put a gun in my mouth, do you have one?),” I said. “I think it’s soul like soul…”
She said the hotel would call my company if anyone found it.
I walked out to my cab, did another fruitless search, and called my dispatcher. I was surprised it was Mike. Fuck, I suddenly remembered what time it was and the money I should’ve been making right then…
“This is fucking absurd, but the key is missing, and I’ve searched everywhere. I stepped out to use the restroom, I came back and it was gone.”
“Alright, well, keep looking. I’ll call you back if I can find the spare set.”
“Aight, thanks, man.”
“Did you retrace your steps?”
“Yeah, I did all that shit. I don’t know, honestly, I think it was stolen.”
“Huh…”
I heard him half yell, away from the receiver, something to the overnight phone help.
“Yeah, we just took a call from someone at the hotel, saying there was a cab sitting out there but no driver… we sent them another cab, was supposed to be going to Sully’s.”
“They fucking stole my key!”
“Maybe. The trip was a waterhaul (no show).”
“Do you have a phone number?”
“Yeah, but we’ll look for the spare set first. Even if we call, they’ll deny it.”
Mike was right, they would. I was sure I could get them to tell me where the key was, but I couldn’t be sure Mike was totally on board with my theory. They had motive and opportunity… but the evidence was entirely circumstantial.
“Alright, adios.”
It was time to redefine the search effort. What would a drunk person do with my key?
My first thought was, they’d either pocket it or toss it almost immediately.
I thought of him just leaning halfway in to quickly grab the key, righting himself and chucking it, probably over the cab and into the grass.
Hopefully, not a huge throw, so not to attract attention. I walked through the grass, looking at the ground for something to stand out.
I walked up toward the bushes, glanced at everything, checked the potted plants.
Chances are they started walking toward Sully’s…
I looked up the sidewalk and saw a public trash can with garbage spilling over. Old cheese fries, used condoms, the usual. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty, neither would they… so I only had to glance over the top and look around the sides to rule out the trash can… damn.
Nothing along the curb either. I decided to go back to the grass, still feeling it was the most likely place they’d toss the key.
Mike pulled up in his truck a few minutes later with two sets to try. Neither fit.
“Damn it. Well, let’s go, you can help me look.”
We went back to the office where I was introduced to two giant boxes full of spare keys, most of them out of use, unlabeled, and indistinguishable.
The Scion keys stood out, and I presumed the Kia Souls looked similar because so do the vehicles. I started there and tossed all the Scions back in the box.
Then the Impalas, Crown Vics and then the unknowns. It didn’t take long to rule out all but one set… too old to be the right keys, but labeled 14, same as my cab.
Next I moved on to a cabinet full of similar, but slightly newer, keys. I knew none of them were for a Kia, but I went through the motions. The phones just kept ringing, and it was past 2AM.
“I know we have a spare set, somebody locked the keys in it and we used the backup… it’s just a matter of finding them…” Mike said, as he answered another phone call.
At some point, while I was standing in the rear office, looking aimlessly at keys, Mike got a minute to hunt around the garage, and he returned with both of the sets we’d need to try.
It was 2:30 by the time Mike got me back to my cab. I was grateful he was able to find the backup keys, they weren’t in what I’d call the likeliest of places. The engine started for the first one I tried, and I was back on the road.
I checked the rear-view mirror, just in case my keys were somehow under the tires… no luck…
I’d have to turn in the cab at the end of the night with only the backup key… and it just looks like I lost the fucking thing…
We had a driver, Mike told me, who lost his keys numerous times in a very short tenure (before, reportedly, being shipped across state lines in handcuffs because a handgun he owned, and loaned someone, was used in a terrible murder). Evidently he threw them in the garbage can on accident, locked himself out of the cab, just somehow managed to lose his keys a dumbfounding number of times…
I didn’t want to be anywhere near that category. Even once in five years was too much… especially since I knew that the key was taken, not lost. Sabotage.
There was still plenty of night left. After a couple trips, I was back in the zone and already forgetting the frustration of the key situation.
I made out ok, with a little help from my friends.
Hours after my shift ended, when the sun was up and I was still defiantly awake and pounding at the keyboard… much like right now…
I received a text message from Mike:
They found the keys behind the hatchback.
The fucking trunk??
Slow motion:
I raise my head,
eyes focused on the screen in my mind
cell phone slips out of my hand
spirals down toward the floor
where the fragile $8 burner
splits into three thin plastic pieces
I was never near the trunk. I had left the car running, like I thought, and that drunken motherless cocksucker pulled my keys and tossed them over the backseat and into the trunk… where I never thought to check… I thought he’d toss them after he stood up, almost impulsively… but, no… it was premeditated.
PAN down
imprinted in the plastic
on the back piece of the phone
KOBAYASHI
The Game.
A meme for the hometown crowd.
YOU WILL GET WORDS WHEN I WANT TO GIVE THEM TO YOU
Some nights you just want to stay in
Enjoy the freedom in
confinement
Then you hear the sound of
a woman’s laugh
outside your window
the joy in it
makes you imagine her
beautiful
and your blood boils
and you taste memories of
alcohol, sweat, and women
those brief moments when
someone else realizes
you’re not a loser
and loves you
for proving them right
[video]
I’ll have a good story for you later.