Background notes: (Believe it or not there are many times that I censor myself on this blog. There are stories that I do not tell, things that are not shared with the denizens of the Shack.
Sometimes those stories are kept to myself because they are too embarrassing to be shared. Sometimes they are hidden in the dark recesses of my mind because at my advanced age I just plain forgot that they ever happened. And sometimes they are blogged about but never published because I canâ€™t find a proper way to tell the tale.
You know how it goes, you try to tell someone a funny story but find yourself resorting to the old â€œyou had to be there to appreciate itâ€ line. If the post doesnâ€™t pass that test than I wonâ€™t press publish, at least I try not to. Truth is that there are more than one or two posts that probably shouldnâ€™t be live, but that is story for a different day.)
Today’s story comes to you courtesy of the fine people that populate our roads, freeways and shopping malls. You see I recently had need of some new attire so I decided to frequent one of the local shopping malls as I felt that it offered the best selection of fashions that Jack might choose to wear.
Who know that an attempt go Beau Brummeling could or would lead to so much nonsense. With great anticipation I jumped into the Jack Mobile and began my journey to the mall. While safely cocooned inside my vehicle I noticed that people were exceptionally friendly. Every mile or so they’d stick their hands outside of their cars and wave their fingers at me.
Since I didn’t want to seem unfriendly I made a point to give them the same salute, but since I like to offer my own special touch I made sure to add a little honk of my horn. One lady in a Lexus was especially so touched by my efforts she made a point of following me to the mall parking lot.
Lady: Hey you! Where did you learn to drive?
Jack: In a car. Where did you learn how to drive?
Lady: Very funny smartass.
Jack: I am sorry, I don’t understand.
Lady: What do you mean you don’t understand. Where are you from, Pluto.
Jack: Is that near cleveland?
Lady: Why? Are you from Ohio?
Jack: No way. My parents had enough sense to stay out of that place.
Lady: You are a real winner. Some lady must be ever so proud to have you.
Jack: Proud to have me do what?
The lady must have had a sudden gas pain or headache because she suddenly screamed and called me a couple of names that were not complimentary. And then she up and left, probably to go to the closest psych ward because she was crazy.
With a shrug of my shoulders I prepared to run the gauntlet of people and cars in the parking lot. It is moments like this where I wish that my life was accompanied by a soundtrack. The camera would focus upon me as I gazed out upon the parking lot, searching for the perfect path to the stores. A soft drumbeat would play, growing louder as I walked.
Sadly that is not an option, at least not until I start carrying speakers for my iPod. That could be kind of cool. Any time I have to deal with customer service I could play the theme to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.
I hadn’t made it more than a few steps towards the entrance when a man holding a clipboard approached me.
Clipboard Boy: Are you registered to vote?
Me: I am a Taurus.
Clipboard Boy: I am a Gemini.
Me: It must suck to have to deal with that evil twin all day long. I don’t know how you do it.
(A momentary look of confusion passed across his face and then he spoke.)
Clipboard Boy: I’d like to speak with you about your vote in the election.
Me: My erection works just fine, but I have to give credit to the nice man who sends me those great email notes. Those pills really work.
Clipboard Boy: Sir, I didn’t say erection. I want to speak about…
Me: Don’t be shy, from time to time it happens to all of us.
Clipboard Boy: The election isn’t a joke.
Me: Neither is being impotent.
Clipboard Boy: No, you’re right. But I really want to talk to you about the direction our country is going in.
Me: You know you’re only supposed to take one of those little blue pills at a time. The direction of our country, hah! Everyone knows that Europe revolves around the U.S. of A.
Clipboard Boy: While you are making jokes people are dying.
Me: Ok good sir, I wouldn’t want people to die laughing. What is it you need?
Clipboard Boy: This November you have the opportunity to send a message to the people of the U.S. and the world.
Me: Why wait until November. Thanks to the magic of the Internet I can send a message to the world right now.
Oddly enough clipboard boy glared at me and took off in the direction of some other lost soul, and thus my quest to get inside the mall began anew. I’d like to say that it was without incident, but that wouldn’t be true.
There was a brief exchange between myself and the driver of a dinged up Rav-4. The crazy broad behind the wheel forced me to prove that old Jack is still nimble. She came flying around the corner at a speed best not used in the parking lot. With the radio blasting Donna Summer’s Last Dance she was be-bopping behind the wheel and not paying attention to the road.
It forced me to jump out of the way, causing me to crash into a Honda Odyssey. Fortunately the Odyssey had a large dent in the side, which served as a impromptu hidey-hole for me. Had it not I would have been road kill.
That is kind of an ignoble way to die, turned into road kill. Just what I want, to be a human splatter to be wiped up with a hose and cheap shmata. But as I have what some refer to as the P.O.P. I didn’t suffer such a silly fate.
Crazy Broad: Get out of the way, you walk too slow.
Me: Right. If your brushed that frizzy hair out of your eyes and turned off the oldies station you might actually notice the pedestrians.
Crazy Broad: Screw you.
Me: That is quite an offer.
Crazy Broad: I didn’t offer.
Me: That is ok, I didn’t accept.
Crazy Broad: You only wish that you had the chance.
Me: I like a woman who dreams big. Big hair, big mouth….
Stay tuned for Part II