midfuckepiphany

so yesterday i get out of the shower and i look outside and i see that it's going to rain. so i figured i should make a beer run, because anybody who knows me knows that i need to pound at least a good twelve a day if i'm going to get any serious thinking done. and i didn't want to get wet.

so i hit the street on my way to the liquor store, but i realize that i also need to get some cash because i wanted to get a pizza for later for diner. in my new neighborhood here, the liquor store is one block away, and the atm is three blocks away.

so i'm passing the liquor store that i'm going to come back to after i get the cash, and i see that there's this dude outside, kind of a scruffy-looking spanish dude, maybe in his late 40s, and he's furiously scratching off one lottery ticket after another. he'd scratch it off, shake his head and go 'gahh,' and then rip the thing up and start on the next one.

so i get my cash, and i'm heading back to the liquor store, and i'm on a narrow part of the sidewalk where you can't really pass anyone ahead of you, and i'm stuck behind a really slow person. then i realize the slow person is this lottery guy again, and he's going so slow because he's still furiously scratching off one lottery ticket after another as he walks. this guy must have burned through at least a dozen tickets just in the short time that i was watching him. and again, always the same thing - scratch it off, 'gahh,' rip it up into almost perfect squares, and then toss the pieces off like rice at a wedding.

so i'm looking up at the darkening sky, and i can practically smell the rain, and i'm thinking, 'dude, will you give it up? you're not going to win the lottery.' but i decide to be patient, because i can see that the liquor store is coming up just ahead, so i figured i could peel off there and get my beer unhindered by slow-moving gamblers.

but then when we get to the liquor store, he veers off in that direction too, and i'm thinking, 'oh great, now i'm going to get stuck in line behind this dude while he takes a million years to pick out all his next lottery tickets.'

now, to backtrack a bit, whenever i move into a neighborhood, the local booze retailers get to know me pretty quickly. i've been in this hood about four months now, and i know the lady who runs this place knows me by now. she's like a tough-looking 40-something spanish lady. but she never says 'hi' to me, even if i say hi to her first. she just fixes me with an icey stare. i guess when you're a woman running a DC liquor store, you have to be kind of an iron woman.

but this time, as i come in behind the lottery guy, not only does she smile and say hi to me, but she says it in spanish - "hola" - which i thought was pretty cool. i guess i must have crossed some threshold of trust. so i go to the refrigeration unit and grab a 12-pack of bud lite, and much to my surprise, the lottery guy bought his entire next batch of tickets with lighning-fast efficiency. excellent! i like a guy who knows what he wants out of life.

so i put my beer on the counter, and the lady starts ringing it up, and i glance down at the counter, and out of the corner of my eye, i see that there is a sign taped to the counter where barely anyone could ever see it. it's on neon green printer paper in about an 18-point Courier New font. and this is exactly what the sign says:

Kurt Vonnegut is done farting around

and it's got a small picture of Kurt Vonnegut taped to it that looks like it was ripped out of a newspaper.

i looked up at her slowly and our eyes met.

Me, deadpan: "so who's the Kurt Vonnegut fan?"

Her, deadpan: "me and " - she said some guys' name and gestured toward the rear of the place.

there was a pause.

Me: he was a very talented guy.

she looked at me up and down, then said, "He was very cool."

i smacked down a tenner, scooped up my beer and said, "well, bye."

* * *

i beat the rain by nanoseconds. Haha! god loves me