The title is courtesy of my (unpaid) publicist Lynbob, describing me as “only slightly twisted.” Yes, and I have integrated myself into society fairly well, or maybe slightly well, but anyway, well enough.
Today at Thornton’s (that place should pay me for advertising–a year of free soft drinks would suffice), ice cream cones were on sale. I considered purchasing one, since Nick had recommended them. (Something I will keep in mind–I may need to try bribing him with ice cream.) But I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure how to operate the machine. And why? Because the instructions were all in pictograms for the illiterate, and I only understand words. (Nick, it’s dangerous to roll your eyes while you’re driving.) I stared at it for some moments, then sadly slipped away.
On the way home, I stopped at the dollar store, in order to ascertain if Suave Daily Clarifying Shampoo was cheaper there or at Walgreen’s. (How many times do I have to tell you–YOU NEED TO KNOW.) On the way out, I spotted a squad car on the lot. Could it be? Yes, the selfsame Nick, who promptly slammed his car door and rolled his window up, lest I whack him on his sensitive snout. I persuaded him to open up (it would have gone faster if I’d had ice cream, I’m sure). So I got to watch him complete an accident report, one of the most exciting parts of police work. He directed me to guard his squad car while he went over to check something on one of the involved vehicles. Of course, I then thought, What will I do if someone does try to steal the car? I guess I’d give them the frowning of a lifetime, and see if that deterred them.
Report finished, he said, “Sure you don’t want to go on a ridealong?” There are few things I’m more sure of. BUT I actually considered agreeing (assuming his offer was genuine–he is a bit of a smartass <== UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR), because it would be a guaranteed blog post. That’s how devoted I am to You, The Readers. So if a ridealong with Nick ever comes to pass, which I can only imagine happening if I were to lose a bet, I promise to report on it here. I might omit any tears or throwing up, though.
He ended up giving me a ride home. For the whole two blocks I thought, What if he gets a run? I vividly remember being given a ride home by now-Sgt. S.H. and his partner, and them deciding to speed to the aid of another officer. “You can just let me out here first,” I said, and was answered by the click of the car doors locking. Well, then. Luckily, they/we were given a disregard. For a moment there, I almost had an adventure!
Speaking of past adventures, Happy Birthday to Charles Andrew, my oldest friend except for Rom himself. I taunt you with the fact that you missed some truly supernal BBQ. But that’s what you get for gallivanting–and in locales I once knew, no less! It’s hard to be impressed when my high school team is the Webster Statesmen. We will debate you to death! Gotta love the black-and-orange Halloween school colors, too.