What the hell. So I wake up yesterday morning with Johnny Law knockin on my bedroom door at eight. Not my front door, my bedroom door. For a moment I just laid there half asleep as if I was dreaming, what does he want with me? Did they somehow track me down on some surveillance video for smashing the parking meters with a hammer the other night? Did he see the bright green plants in the front windows? Should I explain that they are only male plants and for non-medicinal purposes only? Did he know I was late for work? Does he even know the difference between male and female plants?
In a foggy stumble off the loft bed, I wondered if I should be lookin for something sharp while asking what he wants. I was expecting the pistol drawn with that comment and heard something about a wallet. I saw my wallet on the desk and I figured I could just open the door and start swinging.
He was dressed in blue accompanied by my two roommates behind him looking like it was some kind of intervention. I wasn’t expecting that bit and tried to do some quick math on who to take out first in order to get out the door as fast as possible. I think it was then that I saw my old wallet in his hands. He handed it over and said someone found it on the street, all the cards scattered and of course, no cash. Might have lost a couple receipts as well.
I always kept that under my car seat with my movie cards and wondered if my car was okay. No report of any busted windows he said. Must be gone I thought. He started giving his hard luck stolen wallet speech and I interrupted, "It’s no big deal really. Thanks. Have a nice day." There’s the door. I didn’t get to punch anyone’s throat. I got in the shower and got ready for work.
When I rounded the corner to find the car, sure enough, there it was, hood latch popped, windows fine and passenger side unlocked. What a mess! All the junk, receipts, and small bits I’d stored under car seats and beneath floor mats for years were sprayed all over the navy corduroy interior like I’d been visited by the great garbage fairy. I started searching for the missing items of significance. The shark on the dash board had been moved but left. The half filled gallon of water, the new book, and even the discman under the seat were all still there. Then I looked at the ashtray.
Empty. The odd bullet my friend left and my change, gone. Assessing my situation with no noticeable smell of urine or vomit, I drove to work in the mess that finally came out from under the floor mats all on its own. The Lumina had gotten its point across. It sent the Man to wake me up and stole one bullet and $1.37 in change. I gave it a long cleaning after work and found about $1.37 on the floor but unfortunately, no bullet. Now I drive a bit slower, knowing full well that if I push the engine too much, somehow I’m gonna set off that missing bullet and the Lumina will be left sputtering in laughter alone on the side of some road.