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items in the house that are likely to yield anything close to practical nutritional value, it’s time to go grocery shopping. (i.e. unless I plan on boiling the carpet to make soup, I’ve got nothing for dinner before work)
I don’t remember what I was thinking about on the drive to the store, but in any event, I happened to be second in line at a traffic light. A purple Chevy Cobalt with New Jersey plates was directly in front of me. Hmmm… Déjà vu….
Wait a sec, that was the last car I towed on my shift that very morning. Towed it out of West Side Apartments for not having a permit. I’m sure of it, same color, same plate, same pattern of scratches and dents, same bumpersticker, yep, it’s him.
I find myself musing at what a small world it is. As what are the chances that I end up behind the very car I towed this very morning?
Furthermore, how fascinating that the guy behind the wheel of said car, who probably isn’t exactly happy he got towed, has no idea that the ordinary-looking car behind him at that very light contains the person responsible for him getting towed in the first place? It’s not the first time I’ve run into one of my victims later in my civilian role. Makes me get a weird vibe on the inside whenever it happens. By day, I’m a normal law-abiding citizen, but by night, I’m Tow Truck Driver, a stealthy wraith-like being with the power to make your car disappear forever. Muh ha ha ha ha ha haaaa! Is this how it would feel to be a vampire trying to hide your dual nature from people? “Hey, that’s the guy who’s girlfriend I sucked dry the other night! Man, wish I could apologize for that, he totally crapped his pants. Well, he asked for it. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but who in their right mind goes walking with their date in the woods at night?”
Like, does Peter Parker ever end up in line behind someone in an overstuffed trenchcoat at a Starbucks, realize it’s Doctor Octopus, and just smile a bit on the inside about how he’s got no clue who’s behind him either? Or perhaps groan a bit because once again an unrepentant psychopathic megalomaniac has escaped from that alleged high-security containment unit that, while supposedly built with the sole purpose of keeping people with indestructible titanium exoskeletons from annoying the public, has yet again failed to be any more of an obstacle to villainy than a stern letter to the editor, or a bowl of chocolate pudding? And now Peter’s mentally clearing his personal schedule and trying to think in advance of several convincing excuses to duck out of his classes, ditch his friends, and cancel his date because he knows that he’ll be spending this Friday night subduing Doc Ock and putting him back in that wet cardboard box they call a prison around here? I mean, that’s what I’d do in his situation.
Then again, it means he can sell some more pictures of Spider-Man and make money in the near future too, so it’s not so bad as much as just frustrating proof that people have a serious aversion to learning simple cause-and-effect dynamics. Like how illegal parking gets you towed, winners don’t use drugs, The Detroit Lions stink no matter who they draft, grass grows, sun shines, birds fly, and brudda’, I hurt people.
Anyway, the light turns green, and the Cobalt hooks a left heading up a side street.
“Hmm” I think “The only thing back that street that someone from out-of-town would go to is Norwalk Apartments, I’ll bet he parks there, without a permit”
So after dinner, when I clock into work, I go up to Norwalk Apartments.
And tow out one purple Chevy Cobalt bearing a New Jersey license plate for having no permit.
When will you evil-doers learn you can’t get away with it?
I don’t remember what I was thinking about on the drive to the store, but in any event, I happened to be second in line at a traffic light. A purple Chevy Cobalt with New Jersey plates was directly in front of me. Hmmm… Déjà vu….
Wait a sec, that was the last car I towed on my shift that very morning. Towed it out of West Side Apartments for not having a permit. I’m sure of it, same color, same plate, same pattern of scratches and dents, same bumpersticker, yep, it’s him.
I find myself musing at what a small world it is. As what are the chances that I end up behind the very car I towed this very morning?
Furthermore, how fascinating that the guy behind the wheel of said car, who probably isn’t exactly happy he got towed, has no idea that the ordinary-looking car behind him at that very light contains the person responsible for him getting towed in the first place? It’s not the first time I’ve run into one of my victims later in my civilian role. Makes me get a weird vibe on the inside whenever it happens. By day, I’m a normal law-abiding citizen, but by night, I’m Tow Truck Driver, a stealthy wraith-like being with the power to make your car disappear forever. Muh ha ha ha ha ha haaaa! Is this how it would feel to be a vampire trying to hide your dual nature from people? “Hey, that’s the guy who’s girlfriend I sucked dry the other night! Man, wish I could apologize for that, he totally crapped his pants. Well, he asked for it. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but who in their right mind goes walking with their date in the woods at night?”
Like, does Peter Parker ever end up in line behind someone in an overstuffed trenchcoat at a Starbucks, realize it’s Doctor Octopus, and just smile a bit on the inside about how he’s got no clue who’s behind him either? Or perhaps groan a bit because once again an unrepentant psychopathic megalomaniac has escaped from that alleged high-security containment unit that, while supposedly built with the sole purpose of keeping people with indestructible titanium exoskeletons from annoying the public, has yet again failed to be any more of an obstacle to villainy than a stern letter to the editor, or a bowl of chocolate pudding? And now Peter’s mentally clearing his personal schedule and trying to think in advance of several convincing excuses to duck out of his classes, ditch his friends, and cancel his date because he knows that he’ll be spending this Friday night subduing Doc Ock and putting him back in that wet cardboard box they call a prison around here? I mean, that’s what I’d do in his situation.
Then again, it means he can sell some more pictures of Spider-Man and make money in the near future too, so it’s not so bad as much as just frustrating proof that people have a serious aversion to learning simple cause-and-effect dynamics. Like how illegal parking gets you towed, winners don’t use drugs, The Detroit Lions stink no matter who they draft, grass grows, sun shines, birds fly, and brudda’, I hurt people.
Anyway, the light turns green, and the Cobalt hooks a left heading up a side street.
“Hmm” I think “The only thing back that street that someone from out-of-town would go to is Norwalk Apartments, I’ll bet he parks there, without a permit”
So after dinner, when I clock into work, I go up to Norwalk Apartments.
And tow out one purple Chevy Cobalt bearing a New Jersey license plate for having no permit.
When will you evil-doers learn you can’t get away with it?
Thank you Co-worker.
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