I realize this isn’t my usual AGN fodder of choice, but between my computer problems, migraines, and nitpicking through my own private little essay about the Watchtower Society, I didn’t do much here online last month. So tough nipples. Here we go.
Imagine this little guy with a blue
tie and a pack of smokes, and
you’ve got Billy the creepy-ass
spider in your head.
I was at work about a month ago (I try to show up at least twice a week so they’ll keep me around) and started cleaning up around my desk. I was sweeping when I noticed a big-ass spider just sitting there by a bug trap. He had one leg leaning against the entrance, waiting for something to come out so he could chow down. (I don’t think Billy understands how bug traps work.) He was taking a drag off a cigarette with another leg when he noticed me. “Sup,” he said, then went back to work as a tiny plume of blue smoke wafted to the top of my desk. Well, at least now I knew where that damn smell was coming from.
Anyway, I decided to leave Billy alone for a while. That’s his name, by the way. Don’t question how I know such things. Anyhow, I waited an hour and Billy was still there. I was afraid to look, but I could hear him puffing away. “Dammit, Billy!” I thought. “I’ve got work to do. Can’t you hang out by another bug trap?”
Don’t get me wrong. I could see that Billy had it tough. He had one leg missing and was probably an Ex-Jehovah’s Witness or something. I could tell because he was still wearing a tie and he had a flaming ball of old brochures he was using to keep his cigarettes lit. He had placed it behind the trap, presumably to drive something out so he could catch it in his mouth. Damn clever, I have to say. Poor little fella. His choosing my desk to hide under kinda made me feel … well … sorta special. I don’t have many friends, ya know.
I love this car. If it had tits,
I’d marry it. In a fricking instant!
The scene opens on Middleford Road. It’s 7:20 in the morning and I’m on my way to work. A pickup truck with big tires rumbles out from the bend in the street ahead. Its wheels are nearly as tall as my Chrysler Concord LXI. The truck’s heading the opposite way and it’s getting closer.
The truck is two car lengths away when its left front wheel twists free. It rocks forward on its remaining three wheels. The fourth comes bounding straight at me.
I bought the Chrysler less than two weeks ago. And I love my car.
I swing it to the right. The wild truck tire rampages past my left. There are other cars behind me. I look in my rearview to see where the tire’s going, but the sun’s glare blinds me. Then I see the tire leap high above the glare as it hits something. I think it’s a telephone pole. Then the tire falls, crashing to the street below. I still can’t tell if anyone was hurt.
Then I turn left and head in to work with a tale to tell.
Okay, it wasn’t that heroic. But at least I saved my car.
Thanks for your indulgence.
Sidenote: I have an announcement board where I work. When I had a vacation a while back, I wrote: “I’m dead. So don’t call me.” One of the women who worked in the department said I was tempting fate. (Insert your favorite eye-rolling graphic here.)
I just came back from another vacation day from the July 4th weekend. I left another message on my announcement board: “I’m dead to you. Don’t call.” Then this near miss happened today.
And guess what she said?
“That happened because of what you wrote on that board! If you hadn’t of wrote that…”