Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: Illegal drug trade

Drunk & Orderly

…is what I was on Saturday. But that was then, and this is now.


Interior decorating for Sagittarius: “Turn your digs into a colorful caravan by covering walls with brightly-printed sheets, then gathering ends of same at middle of ceiling. Add rattan chairs, huge pillows covered in madras cotton, a collection of Buddhas–pure erotica!” Yes, there’s nothing more erotic than a bunch of Buddhas.

Brief intermission while I get up and turn the light back off, after having it on to copy the above.


Well, the corner of Franklin & St Joe has a problem, but it’s symptomatic & stuff.

First let me note that someone has tossed a pair of athletic shoes over the telephone wire. It has been rumored that this means that drugs are for sale at this location. Even before I read Snopes on the matter (they say no one knows why it happens, but probably it’s just because we can), I found problems with this theory. How do you know where to get the drugs? Do you just stand on the corner until someone shows up?

At any rate (to use one of Rom’s favorite expressions), at least two people were able to get some drugs, because there was a guy on the bus stop bench angrily talking to himself.

Rom just came in here and turned on the light, just because it’s dark. How dare he?

I thought, he’s really going to be mad when he realizes that the bench isn’t really at the bus stop, but is half a block away. This is because the important thing is not giving riders a place to sit while they wait, but displaying the advertising on the bench to the best advantage. People sitting on it actually block the view. I thought I was just paranoid to think this, until I saw recently that they moved the one across the street away from the bus stop, too.

At any rate, perhaps the guy on the bench suspected the truth, because he hunched over and started screaming at the sidewalk.

Then a different guy lurched toward me, so I had to step aside to avoid him. He kept staggering onto the liquor-store parking lot and back,

(Disclaimer: speaking of staggering on liquor-store lots, I’m drunk again. I have to have a reason to be drunk–previously it was Cinco de Mayo, now it’s my birthday/anniversary season.}

and then he approached me–“Gotta light for a cigarette?” Well, that’s one stupid habit I never started, so no. He then stumbled over to the guy on the bench, who interrupted his diatribe with the pavement long enough to give him a  light. Then Guy #2, who apparently saw no reason to save up his cigarette money so he could fix his missing tooth, sat down on the curb, smoking and twitching. Then he got up and wandered into the street, apparently thinking he could see if the bus was coming more effectively that way. Keep in mind that this is W. Franklin St. during evening rush hour, even though many people were just rushing to the liquor store after work. OK, I was one of those people. Except for the “after work” part.

When the bus arrived, I got on quickly, to secure my coveted front-upper-level seat. The smoking/twitching guy got onto the bus entrance steps and just stood there, then stepped off.

Bus driver: “Sir, do you want to get on the bus or not?”

Guy: “I’m scared.”

Driver: “Scared of what?”

Guy: “Being shot.” He then backed away from the bus. I am betting the police dealt with him eventually.

This post is dedicated to the people at Dispatch who decided, against all odds, that they missed me.




Nasty Habits

Ad on Facebook: “The Wear-All-Day Bra You Absolutely Need!” I absolutely do not need to wear a bra all day. You’d be amazed how fast I can whip that sucker off. Without even taking my shirt off. It’s a magic trick many women have mastered.


Didja ever notice all the fish-sandwich specials at this time of year? And that they’re all “for a limited time only”? Guess what limited time it is? That would be Lent. But they never mention it, lest non-Catholics think they’re not allowed to buy a fish sandwich on sale.


–Call of a possible meth lab. The sign on the building says “Hoosier Accounts.” So much better than getting your meth from Mexico, or wherever it’s coming from these days.


I encountered Nick at Thornton’s, and now I have a knot on my head and Coke on my jacket. I will jerk a knot in his tail at my earliest opportunity. Which reminds me…

The other night, I went down to Fountain Ave. (there is no fountain to be seen there, by the way), where they were attempting to train Nick to detect arson, sniff out explosives, etc., with the aid of a burned-out car. (He will work for food, such as bananas, oranges, and the occasional dead rat.) But first he tried to guard the car by jumping on top of it and flaring his wings. He can hardly be blamed for that, since he has been bred and trained for guard duty. He then found an old shoe in the gutter, and between chewing on it and growling at anyone who tried to take it away, there was really no reasoning with him. So they called in the Cop Whisperer.

He tensed up when he saw me, raising his head, with a strip of leather dangling from his jaws. “You can’t have this shoe.” He quickly gulped down the rest of it.

“I already have shoes.” I showed him, and he drew back a little, because, well, he’s been kicked once or twice.

He then laid down, wrapping himself in his tail (although the claws protruded just a bit from beneath it) and folding his wings. In other words, appearing as non-threatening as one can when one is bristled and scaly. Unfortunately, the fang tips also protrude a bit even when the jaws are closed.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he said.

“I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true. Did you know–” he sort of elongated toward me, without getting up off his belly–“that, if you volunteer to go on a ridealong, you retain your right to leave at any time? It’s called our catch-and-release program.”

“Back off or I’ll swat you on the snout. No, I did not know that.”

“It’s worth considering, don’t you think?”

“It sounds like a trap.”

“Would I lie to you? I’m offended that you would think so. Why don’t I just pounce and rip you apart right now?”

“Would it be worth all the trouble you’d be in?”

“Ah. There is that. I’ve heard stories…”

“So how about paying attention to your fire training now?”

“I don’t like fire. Fire bad.”

…And that, for the time being, was that.

To be continued, if he has his way….

…and 2 More Things

Another reason to lock your keypad: If you happen to be discussing your drug-dealing operations, and your phone dials 911, we don’t necessarily know where you are, but we could make some educated guesses, and send someone to make sure you don’t have an emergency. Oh, now you have one? I did once have a guy tell me, “I need an emergency at…”

Another favorite misheard lyric, courtesy of L.K.:

Instead of “Wasn’t That a Party?”,

“I Wasn’t At a Party.”

%d bloggers like this: