Day 17: Comedy, Tragedy, and the Masks Thereof

by pjmcbride

I find this weather unreasonable. I did not wear my Quick-Dry Tactical Rain Pants on Sunday, and got drenched. I wore them today, and not a drop. This troubles me, but there’s no solution for it except to take control of the weather, and I don’t want the responsibility.

Well, that situation has been rectified–I just spilled soda in my lap. Be careful what you wish for.

The reverse of a shout-out, whatever that is, to my colleague Gary “Panda Bear” Folks, the Evil Man in the Green Van, the Guy Fawkes Mask Impersonator, not for taking the last Reese’s peanut-butter egg–I could live with that, albeit unwillingly–but for LEAVING THE EMPTY BAG ON THE TABLE, so I trustingly thought there was still an egg for me. Then I thought I’d console myself by getting one of each flavor of Jolly Ranchers available–4, at last count–but now only blue ones are available. I don’t know why my co-workers object to the blue ones, unless it’s because no one’s really sure what flavor they are. Sure, the color’s not found in nature, but are any of the other Jolly Rancher colors? So now I have a Cadbury Egg Cookie. I’ve never had a regular Cadbury Egg, but I’ve been curious, so here’s an opportunity to try something new! The package promises “Find a White Chocolate Cookie, Win a Prize!” If I find white chocolate, there better be a prize.


“Trump To Have Rally the Night of White House Correspondents’ Dinner.” Hurt feelings much? Be sure to remind them you won the election. Don’t forget the Electoral College loophole part.

Do Cadbury cream eggs always have something red in the middle? I think I got a fertilized one.

ANOTHER person just asked me, “But don’t you get my location when I call?” NO, you have to figure out where you are for yourself, unless where you are is 7820 Eagle Crest Blvd. NW Sector cell tower. (And you gotta wonder, northwest of what, since that’s on the East Side? I guess everything’s northwest of something.) You know, I seem to have missed all the public service announcements saying, “You no longer have to give your location when you call 911!”

Dear Supervisors, I don’t want to take overtime ever again because it will mess up my countdown, kthnxbai. Also because I’m tired of dealing with this cobbled-together radio system.

–Caller advises “those kids are flirting with danger.” In case you wondered what that consists of, it involves lifting up a manhole cover, going down into it, and then your friends throw stuff down on you. Otherwise known as “up to no good.”

–“Stabbing suspect is wearing  a brown shirt and pink slippers.”  Outfit of the day!

–“I need an escort to the Arbors.”

–“What do you mean?”

–“Like an escort! Like this dude won’t leave my house!”

–“Does he live there?”

–“He’s not on the lease!” Which means he does live there, of course.

–“What’s the address?”

–“I ain’t givin’ you my address! That’d be like police showin’ up at my house!”

–“How can they make someone leave your house without coming to your house?”

–“Listen, dude!” (This marks the first time in my life I have ever been called “dude.”) “I ain’t gettin’ involved with this!”

–“Then why did you call?”

–“I told you! I want this dude put out of my house! OK, l ain’t messin’ around. I’ll handle it myself. If you get a call about noise in the Arbors, it’ll be me puttin’ him out.” Duly noted.

He then called back–giving his address this time–because a female hit him in the head, and he had video of her not wanting to leave, which, as far as I understand, is not a criminal offense, but there you go.

Why am I phones 4 more times, but city dispatch only once? No one calls me “dude” on the radio.


“Your comfort zone is there for a reason. It’s so you can stay comfortable.”

–the Onion