Robber
Kay and I attended a public meeting at a small High School gymnasium. By the time we arrived, it was standing room only. Toward the latter part of the meeting, people began filtering out. I suggested we find a place and sit down. I climbed up the bleachers and found a spot and motioned for her to follow. She came a few minutes later.
We also decided to leave the meeting early, as it was very boring, and to avoid the rush. It was dark outside. I went ahead because Kay stopped to visit with some lady. As I walked across the parking lot, I saw a man working on his vehicle. Kind of a weird time of the day/night to be working on your vehicle, I thought. Maybe he had troubles. I walked passed the man and a big golden retriever got up and came at me barking from the back of someone else’s pick-up. I yelled, “Bad dog, stay!”
The guy who was working on his vehicle and whom I’d just passed yelled, “Git um!”
“What the fuck is going on?” I swore to myself and then hollered at the dog again to stay. Then I noticed the dog was injured and that one of its front legs bandaged. It appeared that the dog had undergone major surgery to repair the leg. The tendons had been replaced by steel cables!
When I reached our pick-up, I immediately saw that the camper was damaged. Part of one corner was torn off and the back door had been ripped or pried open. “Great,” I muttered, “What next?”
I went to unlock the cab and found it already unlocked. Someone had broken in and stolen the radio and tape deck system while we were in the meeting. It struck me at that moment the connection between my pick-up and the guy working on another vehicle in the parking lot. “Son of a bitch!” I hissed aloud.
I stalked over to the night-time mechanic and cordially asked, “Havin’ car trouble?” I peeked in the back window. Sure enough, there were several stolen radios (and part of my camper shell) stashed in the back.
“Naw, it’s nothin’,” he replied.
While the guy was still bent over the engine, his head beneath the hood, I slammed it down on top of him. “Now, you mother fucker, you’ve got engine problems!” I stormed.
Naturally, he struggled to get free, but I held the hood down, to make it hurt and keep him there until I’d decided what to do with him.
I decided to call 9-1-1 first then I would take him to the sheriff’s office, roughening him up a little in the process. I had to wait for Kay to quit talking to her friend and come out though, before I could let the bastard out from under the hood.
We also decided to leave the meeting early, as it was very boring, and to avoid the rush. It was dark outside. I went ahead because Kay stopped to visit with some lady. As I walked across the parking lot, I saw a man working on his vehicle. Kind of a weird time of the day/night to be working on your vehicle, I thought. Maybe he had troubles. I walked passed the man and a big golden retriever got up and came at me barking from the back of someone else’s pick-up. I yelled, “Bad dog, stay!”
The guy who was working on his vehicle and whom I’d just passed yelled, “Git um!”
“What the fuck is going on?” I swore to myself and then hollered at the dog again to stay. Then I noticed the dog was injured and that one of its front legs bandaged. It appeared that the dog had undergone major surgery to repair the leg. The tendons had been replaced by steel cables!
When I reached our pick-up, I immediately saw that the camper was damaged. Part of one corner was torn off and the back door had been ripped or pried open. “Great,” I muttered, “What next?”
I went to unlock the cab and found it already unlocked. Someone had broken in and stolen the radio and tape deck system while we were in the meeting. It struck me at that moment the connection between my pick-up and the guy working on another vehicle in the parking lot. “Son of a bitch!” I hissed aloud.
I stalked over to the night-time mechanic and cordially asked, “Havin’ car trouble?” I peeked in the back window. Sure enough, there were several stolen radios (and part of my camper shell) stashed in the back.
“Naw, it’s nothin’,” he replied.
While the guy was still bent over the engine, his head beneath the hood, I slammed it down on top of him. “Now, you mother fucker, you’ve got engine problems!” I stormed.
Naturally, he struggled to get free, but I held the hood down, to make it hurt and keep him there until I’d decided what to do with him.
I decided to call 9-1-1 first then I would take him to the sheriff’s office, roughening him up a little in the process. I had to wait for Kay to quit talking to her friend and come out though, before I could let the bastard out from under the hood.
posted by elkdreamer at 2:25 PM
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