Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Mysterious Origin Of My Newspaper
Did you miss me? My brain can't catch up with my ass these days...or is it the other way around? Whatever. We're getting ready for the Parrothead Cruise, along with Steve-O and Rock, The Pirate Captain and His Wench, .11 and Kristie, Hoser and Joy, and other great Phriends. Leaving tomorrow morning, in fact, to catch up with the pre-cruise party at the Marriott in Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow night. Our ship shoves off Friday for several St Somewheres and lots of friends, music, food, drink, and debauchery. I'm sure she's well stocked with short stories and long laughs.
Hell, I haven't even been able to unroll my newspaper the past few days to catch up with what passes itself off as news. Which reminds me: I've been meaning for some time to ask you all if you know where newspapers come from? I'm mystified by the whole process. All I know is that somebody called me one day, and told me that for a mere pittance they would make sure I got all the news fit to read. I paid up, and these newspapers began appearing every morning in my driveway.
Seemingly from nowhere.
I have never, ever actually seen my paper being delivered. I have no idea if it's delivered by a kid on a bike, a guy on a moped, a woman in a car, or an alien spacecraft. Countless times, I've gone out at 6:00AM, no paper. Go out a few minutes later - there it is. I've gone back into the house for mere seconds before, and the paper was there when I came back out. Once, I just pretended I was going back into my house, walked nonchalantly up the walkway, whistling, hands in pockets, then BAM! turned around and there the sonofabitch was.
Monday, it almost happened for me. I went out about 6:30AM. I saw no car, but I did see headlights reflecting off a neighbor's wall, and heard a car moving on the street. I held back a second, seeing as how I was clad only in a tee-shirt and boxers, and I didn't want to flash whichever neighbor was headed out to work at such an ungodly hour. Then, I heard it:
Plump! The telltale sound of newspaper striking concrete from a height of perhaps four feet.
This was it! My chance! I ran as fast as my bum leg would carry me so I could see around the corner of my house. There was the paper on the driveway! But where was the deliverer? I looked down the street. Nothing. No cars, no lights, nothing. Where the hell did he/she/it go? I'm pretty sure I saw some lights hovering over the next cul-de-sac, but I don't want to sound weird or nothing.
I picked up the paper.
Still warm.
What manner of craziness is this? Maybe I need a little vacation, just to rest my weary head. I'll see you in two weeks, OK? Don't forget me.
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Hell, I haven't even been able to unroll my newspaper the past few days to catch up with what passes itself off as news. Which reminds me: I've been meaning for some time to ask you all if you know where newspapers come from? I'm mystified by the whole process. All I know is that somebody called me one day, and told me that for a mere pittance they would make sure I got all the news fit to read. I paid up, and these newspapers began appearing every morning in my driveway.
Seemingly from nowhere.
I have never, ever actually seen my paper being delivered. I have no idea if it's delivered by a kid on a bike, a guy on a moped, a woman in a car, or an alien spacecraft. Countless times, I've gone out at 6:00AM, no paper. Go out a few minutes later - there it is. I've gone back into the house for mere seconds before, and the paper was there when I came back out. Once, I just pretended I was going back into my house, walked nonchalantly up the walkway, whistling, hands in pockets, then BAM! turned around and there the sonofabitch was.
Monday, it almost happened for me. I went out about 6:30AM. I saw no car, but I did see headlights reflecting off a neighbor's wall, and heard a car moving on the street. I held back a second, seeing as how I was clad only in a tee-shirt and boxers, and I didn't want to flash whichever neighbor was headed out to work at such an ungodly hour. Then, I heard it:
Plump! The telltale sound of newspaper striking concrete from a height of perhaps four feet.
This was it! My chance! I ran as fast as my bum leg would carry me so I could see around the corner of my house. There was the paper on the driveway! But where was the deliverer? I looked down the street. Nothing. No cars, no lights, nothing. Where the hell did he/she/it go? I'm pretty sure I saw some lights hovering over the next cul-de-sac, but I don't want to sound weird or nothing.
I picked up the paper.
Still warm.
What manner of craziness is this? Maybe I need a little vacation, just to rest my weary head. I'll see you in two weeks, OK? Don't forget me.
