in a previous life i was a badass. a real gunslinging hard motherfucker. unfortunately, i haven't made the transition into this life all that successful.
listen: i've got badass tendencies... i just happen to fuck up when it counts (you know, like getting punched in the face while intervening in a fight between a girl and a guy, or whatever).
case in point:
it's a fall evening, not too long ago.
i'm casually strolling down an avenue near my apartment along with a near and dear friend of mine... let's call this friend "hiller migh life."
through our casual conversation (pronounced 'drink-ing'), hiller convinces me of a few things: 1) the salvage yard near our apartment has way too many trucks, 2) showing up at our apartment driving a big rig would be really "fucking sweet" [direct quote], and 3) i've never actually tried to operate a tow truck.
you can't argue with this guy. he's very poignant, and almost always right. plus, the salvage yard gate was unlocked.
step one: moving to one of the many tow trucks, i find the number of levers on its side very confusing. pulling and pushing the levers willy nilly doesn't ease the confusion, surprisingly.
"maybe you have to start the truck," whispers hiller.
i nod in agreement.
climbing into the cab, i try the old flip-down-the-sun-visor-to-expose-the-set-of-keys trick, to no avail.
"that always works in the movies," hiller assures me, sending me a sly wink.
ok, so this story is getting pretty boring so i'll skip to the end.
instead of pulling up to my apartment in an 18-wheeler, blaring the horn, then driving my roommates around town, i ended up accidentally spraying myself in the mouth with a fire extinguisher, and throwing up all over the side of a truck.
gangster. real fucking gangster.
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