The Squatter Part I

The beer bottles under my seat came loose and rolled under the gas and brake pedals as I careened around the turn. When I jammed my boot on the brake pedal a bottle lodged underneath it kept it from going down. The result was a rather wide turn that sent my retro-fitted bio diesel Jeep sliding through the neighboring office buildings flower bed. I was headed for a fire hydrant when the beer bottle under the brake came lose and I was able to stomp down on it.

Luckily, it was just after dawn and no one in the neighboring buildings was at their offices yet. I collected several dozen of the less damaged roses from the flowerbed. They might have brought a pretty penny on the flower black market and I planned to sell them to my cohorts at our daily lunch meeting in the food court at Strawberry Square but as luck would have it I forgot them in the back of my Jeep and discovered them several weeks later when I noticed a rotting smell.

After packing the flowers away I drove around my office building to park in the rear parking lot.

“Egad, a squatter,” I cried.

Some bastard had parked in my private parking spot. The car looked like a reject from the demolition derby with one side rippled and stripped of paint. The hood was held down with a bungee cord and the tires were balled and mismatched. This bastard had blatantly disregarded the no parking sign posted right in front of his car.

I had dealt with these parking spot stealers before and they were not a rational type. When it came to parking they believed the rules of the old west still held that if you parked your wagon on a certain parcel that it was in fact by squatters rights their property until they decided it was time to move on. This illegal squatting was of course against every city law known to man and since no one in the city seemed to enforce this illegal parking I had taken it upon myself to deal with these bastards in my own way. Calling a tow truck was too good for them. I needed to make an impression.

I got out of my Jeep and looked inside the car. Evidently this guy was some sort of gadget nut. There was a GPS system, a radar detector, a satellite radio, CB, Two cell phones, an AM/FM cassette, CD and Eight track player and a docking system for an I-pod. The contents of the car greatly out valued the vehicle itself.

I was contemplating my next move when I heard someone cry out. “Hey, what are you doing to my car?”

I turned on the heels of my Burmese Jungle boots and stood face to face with a man that had evidently never been introduced to a razor. He was wearing a white T-shirt that looked as if it hadn’t been washed since the invention of carbonated beverages.

“You’re parked in a private parking spot.”

“I wasn’t even gone for a half hour.”

“Right, well, I think you’re missing the point here. This is private parking. You’re not supposed to park here any time.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to mess with my ride.”

“Again, I think you’re missing the point. You are on private property. No matter what your excuse is you are not supposed to be parked here. Do you understand that?”

The cocksucker got in my face and it was all I could do not to karate chop him in the neck and render him a useless blob but I held my cool. I didn’t want to wrinkle my suit and I was already involved in several physical assault cases, all of which I was guilty of but for the right reasons..

Just as suddenly as he’d gotten in my face he backed down. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“Pay for what? You’re the one that broke the law.”

He swung open the door of his car and it nearly fell off. He fumbled with it for a few seconds, getting it back in line and then hopped inside and pulled the door shut. He rolled down his window and held onto the door so it wouldn’t fall off, started it and peeled out. Pieces of the car fell off as ripped out of my parking spot.

Somehow I knew I hadn’t seen the last of this cocksucker…

Take me to your leader, yes, the one not so blessed with intelligence. We would like to dissect him to see if we can find a cure for greed. It is a disease that has consumed him and his constituents and could eventually bring an end to the world. It is an ugly, irreversible strain, that manifests itself in tunnel vision and a lack of empathy. We must stop the spread before it is too late. We have set up an observation room on the rings of Saturn. The procedure won’t be pretty but rest assured we will find a cure for this scourge. Thank-you for your cooperation…

I drift further and further out to see. How far will I go before someone notices I’m gone? It’s an unabashed ploy for a modicum of affection and when I am fulfilled I drift again. It’s just who I am…

Those goddamn cocksuckers tried to move in on my sweet little Rosa. So, I fixed them and I fixed them good. They won’t be back to bother her. The dead don’t grab your ass when you’re trying to serve them drinks.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stood up to all five of them but then again maybe they shouldn’t have tried to take me out after I pointed out their bad behavior. I’d do anything for my sweet little Rosa and I did.
They jumped me in the parking lot. I was ready for them. My fists were already tucked into my brass knuckles. The first jaw gave way like papier-mâché, the second like an egg shell. And that’s when they decided their own fate.
A bullet struck my arm. I dove behind a garbage can, pulled out my roscoe and started spraying lead. A few minutes later it was just me and a bunch of dead bodies.
Rosa came running out of the bar. “Oh, Burma I thought they had killed you.”
“It would take more than these amateurs to take me out.”
I grabbed her and we kissed long and hard as we stood on pieces of their bodies. I’d do anything for my sweet little Rosa.

Where do I belong in the scheme of things? Too much time on my hands. Too many hands on my time. There will never be another you. There will never be another me. So, what do you say? When the lights go out, when your eyelids slide shut, when it all goes down. I am waiting unrequited. Yeah, I know how it goes. Don't regret it. You are who you are supposed to be and me I'm still trying to be who I'm supposed to be.

I believe there is a conspiracy to keep me from getting my taxes in on time. Yesterday, I found one of the envelopes containing the taxes I had sent to the government. On the envelope it said, “Insufficient Postage.” The thing is there was adequate postage on the envelope. I weighed it. I have sent many envelopes of the same size with the same amount of postage on them and nothing has happened.

Something similar happened to me one other time and that was when I sent a rebate for $200 dollars in and it was returned. So, I lost 200 dollars and now I will probably be penalized for sending my taxes in late. I would love to get some reverse postal rage out on whomever the cocksucker was who sent my envelope back. Grrrr…

The past can never be revisited. Evidently, if and when a time machine is built it will only be able to travel back as far as the date on which it was built. So, if I build a time machine and twenty years later I travel back in time I can go back no further than when I built the time machine. Sorry, we will never be able to find out if smoking cigarettes killed off the dinosaurs.

We’d argue over stupid things occasionally like when we ordered a two pizza special on a Friday night. I would insist we should divide the pizza by bodyweight, since I outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She would have no part of this and took one pizza for herself. My pizza would be gone in one night and she would eat hers all weekend long. Sometimes love isn’t fair…

To be a writer one must write. It sounds simple, elementary so but it isn’t quite that easy. Sometimes the words will rebel. They will barricade themselves in, make demands, hold memories hostage and threaten to assassinate your dreams. They know they are in control and they do as they please. I plead with them, try to meet their demands but sometimes there is no compromising with them. Sometimes my writing is a casualty of this battle.

Nothing beautiful can come from a place like this. Centuries ago it was cursed by a dirty little witch doctor who walked about town with his grubby little hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather duster. The pockets had no bottoms and he would manipulate himself whilst gazing at schoolgirls at play. One day the constable approached him and discovered his secret sticking through the opening of his leather duster. The dirty little witch doctor was arrested and burned like a steak at the stake but before the lighter fluid was sprayed on the wood beneath his feet and the match lit he uttered these words, “Nothing beautiful will ever come from this place again.” And as his soul crackled on the open fire the trees around him wilted and the flowers turned gray. The town’s people became instantly old and their features became pointed beyond recognition. And true to the dirty little witch doctor’s words nothing beautiful has ever come from this place again.

These are not my words they are an imposters. Please call XXX-XXX-XXX4 (sorry I had to X out most of the number to protect the innocent) and give any information you might have pertaining to who this bastard might be who has stolen my identity. There is no cash reward but if you are an extremely attractive female I just might find it within myself to take you out to my favorite restaurant and get you drunk. Thank-you for your time.

Someone stole my Sirius Satellite radio out of my car. It really pisses me off that someone would get into my car, rummage through my glove compartment and take my radio. I reported the loss to my insurance company who is trying to wriggle out of paying me. They asked if the radio was permanent. In other words they are going to say that it isn’t permanent and not covered by insurance. The thing is, that part of the radio can be taken out of the car and you can listen to MP3’s on it but you can’t listen to satellite radio on it. It is a car UNIT! It only works through your car radio and is mounted in the car on a base which by the way, the thief or thieves weren’t smart enough to take and therefore can’t use the $500 dollar item they stole.. I just know those slimy insurance people are going to deny my claim and I don’t know if I’m more angry with them or with the person or persons that stole my radio. Either way I’m probably out $500...

When the word hits the page the force should leave waves that resonate through time. It appears though that the value of time has greatly depreciated--sprayed down with too much cheap perfume, dressed up in go go boots and set out on the street corner where the rift-raft rifles through her silk panties.

They will want to fill you with drugs and rearrange your thoughts because you feel too much, because you haven’t bought into their dream. Not joining the cult will have consequences. Your only solace will be in the brightness of the stars and the sound of the wind as you stand in the bathtub holding a space heater over your head.

The search for self is not a pleasant undertaking. One must lift up boulders and send them sailing—watch them smash down on everything delicate that surrounds you. Know that you will be held accountable. A great mind or a not so great mind lost in the limitations of flesh. Age will rob from you everything beautiful and loneliness will fill this void neatly. Ultimately you will have no choice but to be human.

You are a dirty old world. The perverted neighbor of the universe with the moldy loins of a Billy Goat. Something must be done…
I spoke to the head physician, who spoke to man in the moon, who spoke to Andromeda, Orion, and Pegasus. It appears your test results are back and I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. In fact it looks infected, spoiled, rotten…I’m afraid we’re going to have to operate. Large portions of you will be cut away and disposed of in the basement incinerator by that hoofed janitor we all fear so dearly. You will never be the same again…

She obsesses compulsively about her obsessive compulsions. Does this negate the obsessive compulsions? Like a giant snake that eats its own tale? Can she get her head around it? Inside it? Fighting the very thing that is fighting her. I wish her luck and will send her chocolates or perhaps mice to feed that giant snake…

I watched a show on the History Channel about what will happen to the earth when man dies out. In a way it was disturbing, seeing all the great buildings fall and all the roads grow over with grass and trees but in another way it was quite peaceful. I imagined myself walking through the ruins of our great cities, the skies cloudless and blue, the nights deep and dark and unbent by artificial light. I could imagine the silence would be beautiful; no more Harley Davidson engines echoing off the city buildings, no more jets screaming throught the sky overhead, no more tractor trailer brakes hissing on the highways. I thought I’d like to be the last man to survive and watch the man made world crumble around me. What a beautiful world it would be...

I Know Smoking is Bad for Me but...

I know smoking is bad for me but I do it anyway. No, I don’t smoke cigarettes and I don’t inhale. I smoke cigars.

In the evenings, after I’m done training people at the gym and I’ve had my dinner I head upstairs with a book and a cigar. I sit in my canvas recliner next to the ping-pong table and turn on my reading light. A good cigar will take me about 40 minutes to smoke and in that time I lose myself in my books. It is the most relaxing time of my day and it will be tough for me to give up the cigars again but I will…eventually.

WVU WINS!

Hmm, I guess the Mountaineers had no chance against the all powerful Sooners who many anaylsts said was the best team in the nation at the end of the season. I am so sick of WVU getting no respect. I was watching ESPN this morning and the commentator said Oklahoma "wasn't prepared" for the game. Can't they just say WVU kicked the crap out of them? That it wouldn't have mattered how well they "prepared" for the game that WVU was just better?