This holiday season, I acquired a hot commodity. I'm not saying what it is because I value my life. I would just like it to be known that this is the kind of thing that inspires people to pitch tents outside of Best Buy.
I don't pitch tents. I pitch fits. I was arrested two years ago for Urban Camping; it turns out that there's an ordinance that states that it's perfectly acceptable to spread a blanket out in a park and take a nap on it, but as soon as you get under the blanket you are committing a crime. Another good mugshot. Ever since then I have been strongly opposed to sleeping outdoors.
How I acquired this item is not significant. All I will say is that I Know People in this city. We met in a dimly lit parking lot. I wore all black (very slimming) and carried a large sum of cash. If I ever make another parking lot transaction, I am going to get one of those metal briefcases. I think that will make me look like a Professional. It's important that the local hoodlums take me seriously.
I sped out of the parking lot just in time for a red light. I will have to work on my getaway route before next time. As the light turned green, the driver of a Cutlass honked at me. I'm not a good driver. When people honk at me, I always assume that I cut them off or that I almost killed them. I was too high from the rush of my transaction to care. I weaved through traffic to avoid confrontation.
He followed me. I skipped from lane to lane with him behind me all the way. I started to get nervous. What if he was some kind of holiday road raged lunatic? It became clear that I could not go back to Mom'a house. Abort! Abort! Abort! I pulled into a parking lot where I planned to do a move that I call a U-Turn. As I debated whether I should turn to the left or the right, the Cutlass pulled into the parking lot.
I imagined the evening news. The tragic story of a ridiculously cute woman found gunned down wearing all black (very slimming) in a parking lot. The trunk of the car would be left open and the receipt of my ATM withdrawal would still be clutched in my hand, leading authorities to suspect fowl play. Reporters would interview Mom's neighbors but would not be able to find anyone who had anything nice to say about me. They would end up paying a vagrant $5 to tell the cameras that I was a G*d fearing woman, (sexually) active in the community, and the last person you would ever expect this sort of thing to happen to. That part still makes me smile a little bit. It's almost true.
I parked the car among the other cars. I was going to walk into the store and Be Cool.
The Cutlass pulled up and rolled down the window. A man with gold teeth and a white ball cap turned sideways was inside. Always quick with words, I said, "what's up?"
"What's up?" he replied.
We repeated this phrase to one another for a few minutes. In a panic, I told him everything. He could have the item, just please, don't hurt me.
"I was just trying to get to know you," he said. I think he called me Shorty.
I gave him a fake phone number and sped back to Mom's play with my new unspecified item.