Sunday, November 02, 2008

All Hallow's Eve

Yeah, Happy Freakin' Halloween.

I would have posted on Friday, but it truly became a frightening day for me. A day so over the top that your hair would stand on end and your blood would curdle in fear from what happened to me. Do you dare to listen to my sorrowful tale? Well, pull up a seat kiddies and let your old Uncle Sam tall you a story that will put you in...SUSPENSE! 

That intro was for The Retropolitan and Ivan.

My day started quite normally. I went out and voted that day which I will talk about in my next post. After I did that, things began to change very swiftly. It started and ended at work, which I was very happy to to to that day after doing my civic duty so I could tell my fellow co-workers. When I got there however I found out that wasn't needed that day, which kind of irritated me as I could have just stayed home and no one called me ahead of time to let me know. However, I did stay around long enough to do a favor for the general manager by making a run to pick up a check from a ad client out in the hamlet of Pooler, which just outside of Savannah.

I was given instruction by the sales assistant of who the client was and where the company was located by going to Google Maps. I split as quickly as I could as it was 4:30 and Friday drive time traffic would be ridiculous. I followed the map as closely as I could until I realized for some reason that the address and the directions on the map didn't jive, especially as I was heading down I-95 South to get to Pooler and I should have been going towards I-95 North instead.

I quickly picked up the phone and made a call to the sales assistant to let them know that Google Maps suck balls and so do they. When I finally got them on the line, I told them the situation and give me the right address when suddenly, my phone ran out of minutes!

So kiddies, are you scared yet? The worst is yet to come...

I turned the car around and quickly jumped back on to the highway, weaving and dodging through traffic at a safe speed like a lightweight MMA fighter and finally made it into Pooler in record time. Now all I had to do is find this place without having an actual address number. I make my way down the main strip, doing my best to find this place looking on both sides of the road and not looking like a goofball in a SUV with a radio station logo silk screened all over it. After forty minutes of driving up and down and finally gettig directions from a beautifil woman who worked at a fitness club (there's always a beautiful woman in a scary story). I finally found my destination. A destination that had closed at FIVE P.M. and it was FIVE THIRTY!

(Cue kids singing that scary song you hear in all those freaky flicks.)

I took a deep breath, let out a "really" and drove back to the job angry and tired, but at least I know that did what I was asked and it was all that mattered. This is now where the M. Night Shamylan twist comes into play. Get ready for it...

Earlier when I got to the job, I brought in my magazines and my Ipod that took with me to the polling center while I waited for my turn. It's actually the first video players Apple made, which I picked up from a pawn shop for a good price. It 's not shiny and new, but it was mine and I'm quite happy with it since it holds my music and old commercials that would get online. Sometimes, it's just great to just have something to keep you smiling when you need a pickup. Anyway, I had left my Ipod in the sales room in an empty cubicle that no one was using under my magazines. When I returned from my run and gave the G.M. the bad news, I proceeded to leave and pick up my things when I noticed that my Ipod was missing from where I left it. I suppose you can imagine the horror from that.

I searched the buidling up and down but there was no trace of it anywhere. I even went back to the station SUV to see if I had taken it with me by accident, but I knew that I didn't. I felt hurt, upset and violated. To work anywhere, even in a professional place of business like this and theft happens, it ruins the moral of the company and mine where destroyed that day. I let the G.M. now what happened and she was very sympathetic with me, promising me that on Monday a memo along with a vocal reminder would be given to the entire staff of what occured and that if anyone knows of the Ipod's whereabouts to return it post haste to her. I stipulated that there be no questions asked be added, but do have a few that I'd like to know. Like, "What the f*** where you thinking? Did you think you would f****** steal from me and get away with it"? those kind of questions, afterwhich there would be a major asswhoopin'.

I would have posted on that day right after that, but I was too upset. I talked to my friend Guiness Dave today and he reminded me that I shold write what I feel for it's always the best work. Really, all that would have come out that day would have been "DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE. DIE, you thievin' b**** a** m**** f****, DIE ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN AN ELECRTICAL FIRE" and it would have been horrible. So, I went out and got drunk. A reminder: Never let a hot bartender you may know dressed in a very skimpy pirate outfit jump on you with her legs wrapped around your waist, then proceed to give you a drink called a Screaming Nazi when all you want is just a Coke to ease the pain of the day.

Is there a moral to this scary story, kiddies? There is never a moral in a horrorific tale. Sometimes, the evil monster/demon/robot/alien/crazy person under the stairs is destroyed and their spirit is now free. Othertimes, studios just make Saw V for no other reason but to make more money and to freak people out. so the fright will continue. No matter what, be afraid for no matter where you go or what you do, around any corner lurking in your shadows may be the weird, strange feeling of ...SUSPENSE!

Good night. Pleasent...Dreams?

(Cue squeeky door closing.)

1 comment:

HouseT said...

"A reminder: Never let a hot bartender you may know dressed in a very skimpy pirate outfit jump on you with her legs wrapped around your waist, then proceed to give you a drink called a Screaming Nazi when all you want is just a Coke to ease the pain of the day."

I promise nothing. Except that I'm pretty sure I don't know any hot bartenders who would dress as a pirate, and I'm almost positive that any attempt by one to do something like that would end with us both on the floor and me screaming, "Ow, my knee!"

Sorry your day was so crazy, but at least you got your vote on.