Remember the Eighties?

Oh man do I! When my car ran out of gas two days ago on the freeway by this intersection where bums are always hanging outand collecting donations for beer and drugs, it was hot as hell only more humid as I understand it. I was faced with this terrifying situation where I had to leave my car just knowing that the bums would stop at nothing to steal my only-a-year-old JVC stereo and the precious clothing I had piled in the back seat. Yet I had to get some gas.

I had already missed work a week ago because I got a flat and I didn't have a spare. My boss is such an ass. He was like, "Hey I just expect you to like show up when you're scheduled. What kind of veterinarian or car mechanic doesn't carry a spare tire?"

I was like, "It wasn't my fault. My old lady took the spare out when she had flat a month ago, and she didn't tell me. Veterinarians and car mechanics don't have their old ladies at work with them stealing their shit."

But he didn't care cause he's got his nose so far up the regional manager's butt he can't think about anything but the rosy aroma. (That's what he would say, I'm sure, you know?) So I knew I had to get to work one way or another when I ran out of gas.

I stood outside for a second trying to think of what to do, but then these two bums were sort of circling me so I couldn't keep an eye on both of them at the same time. And they just kept jabbering about how they they had such bad luck and were so hungry and needed money to get somewhere and all kinds of crap until I was forced to hop back into my car and lock the doors. But goddamn it was hot in there. And those bums knew it. I mean if there's one thing a bum knows it's how hot it can get. That and how the urge for drugs and alcohol can tear at your soul until you would kill your mother for sweet release. So I had to think quick.

I decided to call the cops to get a little help. When I called 911 I told them it wasn't a real emergency, but that I ran out of gas and I needed some assistance. So they were like, "Do you need roadside assistance?"

And I was like, "Yeah, but I could help myself if the police would just watch my car cause there's a nest of bums just waiting to steal it or break the windows. "

And they were like, "Is someone trying to steal your car?"

"Yeah that's basically what I mean. But I can stay here until the cops get here. Then if they just hang out and, you know, write some tickets and shit, I can get some gas."

I swear. Who hires these phone answerers? This guy must have been high or something. He's like, "Sir is this an emergency?" And I was like, "No. I told you already I just need the cops to watch my car." And like that this cop shows up behind me. So I told the phone guy, "Hey forget about it. My car's already freakin' stolen and I'm dead. Thanks alot. The cop's already here, so I don't need you freakin' high-tech 911 crap."

I thought for sure this cop would help me out, but instead he's like, "Is this your car?" And I told him it was. So he says, "Let me see some ID." So I show him my work badge which totally matched the name on my shirt, but he's like I need to see your license. I guess he thought I had some crafty disguise or something. Maybe I was a spy. But he must have felt pretty proud cause I didn't have any driver's license with me. He gave me a ticket for that and then asked me if someone had been trying to steal my car. I told him that the bums had been trying to, but the damn bums were gone. So he gives me this big lecture about "abusing" the 911 system. I was like, "Who abused it? I just wanted a cop to watch my car while I went to get some gas!" He was like, "The police aren't here to watch people's cars while they get gas. There are people being killed and children being molested all over, so I don't have the time for this nonsense." Oh he was so calm. So I said, "Thanks a freakin' ton!" Then I got in my car cause I was so pissed, and I just grabbed out the pile of clothes from the backseat and the faceplate from my JVC stereo and I locked the doors. Then I said, "You can't depend on anyone. Guess I'd better hurry before the freakin' bums steal what's left." And I just ran. I couldn't run as fast as I wanted to because the clothes and stuff and cause my shoes were more like boots than sneakers, but I ran anyway. I hope that cop was happy.

It wasn't so bad until I got to the gas station. I mean I was goddamn sweaty and that sucked and I think I lost a sock on the way. It was like a mile, I think. But when I had to carry all that shit into the freakin' Conoco with me to buy a Jumbo Gulp cup to put gas in, everyone was eyein' me. And I was still pissed and that just pissed me off more, so I was like, "What the hell are ya'll looking at? I ain't a bum. The goddamn bums are down the road stealing my car!" And the clerk is like, "Do you want a drink in that cup?" And I'm like, "No. If I wanted a drink I'd get one. This is for goddamn gas!" And he's like, "You can't get gas in that." And I'm like, "Okay sell me the plain old cup and I'll drink the freakin' gas." So he sold me the cup. I used my credit card on the gas so I wouldn't have to see that idiot again.

Getting back was shit. I sweated like hell so my underwear were freakin' unbearable. I damn near rubbed my thighs off on my soaking wet jeans. Plus I spilled probably half of that gas. But I got back to the car, and it wasn't broke into or nothing. Plus that smart ass cop was just sitting there in his car watching it after all. I poured that gas into the tank and hell if the car just barely started. About then the bastard comes up to me and hands me a ticket for expired registration. So I yanked the ticket out of his hand and just threw the car into gear and peeled out. I was done getting a full tank at the station and down the road five miles when I remembered that my goddamn clothes and JVC stereo faceplate were still sitting onthe side of the road. I couldn't help it. I just beat the shit out of my steering wheel and started crying. I was like Steven Tyler after losing his hottest chick just bawling my eyes out. And I thought, "Goddammit. I wish I was freakin sixteen again, drunk without a job, letting someone else pay for my shit, just hanging out all day. I wish it was 1983."