Harken back to the days of High School. My friends and myself would hang out with twenty somethings, primarily because they had access to better drugs, alcohol and their own houses. One of those twenty somethings was our regular hangout. His name was Jerry and he was an absolute alcoholic. We didn't mind so much, usually it meant he passed out and we could watch his TV in peace.
Jerry had a host of friends, primarily drug addict friends which would fade in and out of his apartment at all hours of the night. One of his dealers was nicknamed "Rude". Rude drove a Acura back in the day, he loved his Acura. This all brings me to this.
Around 4 years ago, at approximately the soul's midnight, I was sitting at a McDonalds drive-thru looking to procure a McRib. There are but two cars in the drive-thru, mine and an Acura. The Acura is not moving, not after 3 minutes, 5 minutes or 10 minutes. The car is not moving and nothing in front of it is impeding it's progress to the next window. Seeing what appears to be a slumped over driver I open my car door and approach the Acura. There's Rude, passed out in the McDonald's drive-thru. I get in my car, think about how I never really liked old Rude and begin to drive away. As I do, a host of Police cruisers pull up behind Rude's car, the occupants rise from the vehicles, their hands placed on their sidearms. I laugh.
The McRib is back. I know so because McDonald's has very dull radio spots which embed in mind, tearing me between my love for the McRib and my appreciation of clever radio marketing. At approximately 3:30 this morning I decided once again to enjoy a McRib. I had not been drinking and consequently was not concerned about the exorbitant amount of police activity on the roads. I pull up to the McDonald's drive-thru "Please pull up to the next menu" orders a mechanized voice of a generic woman. I pull up to the next menu, "Sir, you're going to have to come inside to place your order. There's a man passed out in the drive-thru". I laugh out loud. The voice continues, "We've tried to wake him up, but it's not likely to happen". Freeze this frame. Now call down your dark and cold and be damned.
I think to myself, it cannot possibly be. Could it be? I pull forward and see a silver Honda, it's brake light illuminated. I have to see. As I open my door and begin to step onto the concrete I hear a squad car's siren wallop behind me. I step back into my car and a spotlight shines thru my passenger side window and onto my face. I wave, they ignore me. Then the revelation came to me. You have drugs in your car, you're in close proximity to a guilty person. You should probably go. So I left, reluctantly I might add. I'll never know if it was Rude in that car tonight. Chances? Fair to midland.
Jerry had a host of friends, primarily drug addict friends which would fade in and out of his apartment at all hours of the night. One of his dealers was nicknamed "Rude". Rude drove a Acura back in the day, he loved his Acura. This all brings me to this.
Around 4 years ago, at approximately the soul's midnight, I was sitting at a McDonalds drive-thru looking to procure a McRib. There are but two cars in the drive-thru, mine and an Acura. The Acura is not moving, not after 3 minutes, 5 minutes or 10 minutes. The car is not moving and nothing in front of it is impeding it's progress to the next window. Seeing what appears to be a slumped over driver I open my car door and approach the Acura. There's Rude, passed out in the McDonald's drive-thru. I get in my car, think about how I never really liked old Rude and begin to drive away. As I do, a host of Police cruisers pull up behind Rude's car, the occupants rise from the vehicles, their hands placed on their sidearms. I laugh.
The McRib is back. I know so because McDonald's has very dull radio spots which embed in mind, tearing me between my love for the McRib and my appreciation of clever radio marketing. At approximately 3:30 this morning I decided once again to enjoy a McRib. I had not been drinking and consequently was not concerned about the exorbitant amount of police activity on the roads. I pull up to the McDonald's drive-thru "Please pull up to the next menu" orders a mechanized voice of a generic woman. I pull up to the next menu, "Sir, you're going to have to come inside to place your order. There's a man passed out in the drive-thru". I laugh out loud. The voice continues, "We've tried to wake him up, but it's not likely to happen". Freeze this frame. Now call down your dark and cold and be damned.
I think to myself, it cannot possibly be. Could it be? I pull forward and see a silver Honda, it's brake light illuminated. I have to see. As I open my door and begin to step onto the concrete I hear a squad car's siren wallop behind me. I step back into my car and a spotlight shines thru my passenger side window and onto my face. I wave, they ignore me. Then the revelation came to me. You have drugs in your car, you're in close proximity to a guilty person. You should probably go. So I left, reluctantly I might add. I'll never know if it was Rude in that car tonight. Chances? Fair to midland.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
skoosh:
skoosh:
Your answers on, "things not to say on a first date," are fucking hilarious.