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Entry Number Forty-Two
by
Frank Schury
I’ve never found the need to hate. It’s just that hate has always seemed to find me.
Damn it! Is this thing on? This recorder is the same type investigators use, yet it always takes fits. OK, back under the shirt and I’ll start over, just in case.
This is entry number forty-two of this audio diary, which I call my life. I have yet another romantic date with some bimbo. It’s a different town but the same story. Boy, it feels good to be making another entry.
It’s been a bit of a trip to her house, so I’ll take my time. I enjoy driving like this because it really gives me the chance to reflect. Reflection purifies the soul.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve spoken because I felt it necessary to get myself settled in this community before getting to work.
I was able to sit down the other day and really think about things. I find it easy to reflect on my development as a person, which makes me laugh at those hordes of morons who pay seventy-five bucks an hour to lie on a therapist’s couch. Any person can self analyze. It just takes effort.
Damn! Good move making a left turn from the right lane, genius! What was the Department of Motor Vehicles thinking when they gave that guy a license?
As I was saying, I did some thinking about my past and where I’m at now. Honestly, I think I’m coming along nicely. Sometimes, I have doubts but I’ve gradually learned how to attack and eradicate them. Let me cite some examples of what I have learned.
As I’ve stated many times before, I came from what most would consider a solid family. Loving parents, two point two kids, a dog, and a white, picked fence. My grandmother, affectionately called Grams, was a saint. I can’t remember the woman speaking harshly about anyone. Every Saturday, my sister and I would visit her and she’d always have fresh muffins and lemonade prepared. As she would be taking the muffins out of the oven beaming from ear to ear or mixing sugar with the lemons singing happily, one thought always came to mind.
I wonder what it would sound like if Grams happened to take a tumble down the stairs?
Now, in an attempt to sustain objectivity, I’ll offer another example “close to home.” Early one morning a few years back, I was driving around some town that I can’t remember the name of, looking for a parking spot. Finally, I was relieved to find one but before I was able to pull in, some dude in a jeep cut me off and stole the spot. As I sat there watching, the guy got out and flipped me the bird before going about his business.
A few hours later, I was coming out of a store with a new microwave in my hands. The box wasn’t too heavy, but it was bulky. My hands were slipping off the sides and I was trying with all my might not to drop it. Just as it was about to slide out of my grip, along came this guy wearing green overalls who grabbed the other end of the box. After helping me shove it into the back seat of my car, he asked me if there was anything else he could help me with. I offered him a few bucks. He refused it. I offered to buy him a beer at the bar up the street. He accepted.
We drank for hours. I was feeling good but the guy was totally wasted. Since the bathroom was out of service, he took a stroll into the alleyway behind the bar to take a piss. I followed. Five minutes later, the dude is swiss cheese. I dumped what was left of him at an old garbage dump and….
Wait a minute. Where is my knife? Please don’t tell me I forgot it! It cost me a fortune and I….ah! Here it is in the glove compartment. My faithful Old Betsy is safe and sound.
Now back to the discussion. Here’s my point. The guy who gave me the finger is OK in my book. Whoever gets to the parking spot first gets it. Screw everybody. You snooze, you lose. He who hesitates, masturbates. Alright, he did disrespect me a bit with the gesture which is why I slashed his tires, but nothing warranting serious action. I don’t hate the guy. Not by a long shot.
My grandmother and the good samaritan are different. They are nice people doing nice things but why are they being so damn “nice.” It makes them feel good. They’re not being nice for my benefit but for their own. It makes them feel good to be good. I hate that. In this crude world we live in, it is better to be real and look out for number one. Leave the goodness to the television evangelists.
Hold on, this is gotta be her block. One fifty one, one fifty three, and here it is. Oh goody, there is a spot out front.
This bimbo is no different. I was in the laundromat and she had pretended she lost something. I played along and joined the search. We talked for a while and then I excused myself to use the john. When I came out a few minutes later, my clothes were out of the dryer and folded in neat, little stacks. Miss Teenage Mother Theresa was standing there smiling like she just won the Nobel Peace Prize. I immediately asked her out.
Time for a quick inventory check. Recorder is on. Old Betsy is tucked inside my boot. I’ll leave the car doors open, just in case.
Cute house. Except for the plastic pink flamingos on her front lawn, it’s nice.
Ringing the bell now. Once. Twice. She just yelled to me that the door is open so I’m heading in. The table is set with fancy plates and silverware. There’s a fresh bouquet of red roses in the center next to a bottle of champagne. I smell dinner coming from out of the kitchen. The broad really went all out. How sweet.
She’s asking me who I’m talking to.
Let the show begin.
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© Schury, 2006