An Environmental Horror Story
A bit of excitement at work this morning.
It's my job to empty and sort the materials in the bin from the Overnight Book Returns Chute. On a Tuesday, that's a lot of books because the library has been closed for two days. And lots of DVDs and CDs. The late-fees on those are a lot more than on books and people prefer not to have to pay them. Tryin' to save a dollar.
Anyway, I'm about halfway through and come across a 3-by-8 white envelope. Unaddressed and unsealed. Inside is a hand-written note - "I'm hiding in the boiler room. Waiting for you."
And something else. A severed toe. Not the big guy who likes to go grocery shopping but the little one who goes wee-wee-wee all the way home.
The cops are called. The building is evacuated. No one is found.
The thing is, this particular branch library was built less than five years ago. It's heated by solar energy. There is no boiler room.
And that was the start of my day. And about all we talked about till closing time.
It was late when I got back to the three-floor walk-up I call home. I got my mail from the wall of mail-slots in the lobby. Amoungst the bills and new copy of TV Guide was a white three-by-five envelope. No postmark. No stamp. But this one was addressed. 'To Sonny.' Inside was a severed big toe. No note.
I went upstairs, got my gun and headed down to the boiler room. 'Fuck this shit,' I thought.
I'd had a hard long day. I was hungry. This little piggie just wants to stay home. And have roast beef. And that little piggie will get none.
It's my job to empty and sort the materials in the bin from the Overnight Book Returns Chute. On a Tuesday, that's a lot of books because the library has been closed for two days. And lots of DVDs and CDs. The late-fees on those are a lot more than on books and people prefer not to have to pay them. Tryin' to save a dollar.
Anyway, I'm about halfway through and come across a 3-by-8 white envelope. Unaddressed and unsealed. Inside is a hand-written note - "I'm hiding in the boiler room. Waiting for you."
And something else. A severed toe. Not the big guy who likes to go grocery shopping but the little one who goes wee-wee-wee all the way home.
The cops are called. The building is evacuated. No one is found.
The thing is, this particular branch library was built less than five years ago. It's heated by solar energy. There is no boiler room.
And that was the start of my day. And about all we talked about till closing time.
It was late when I got back to the three-floor walk-up I call home. I got my mail from the wall of mail-slots in the lobby. Amoungst the bills and new copy of TV Guide was a white three-by-five envelope. No postmark. No stamp. But this one was addressed. 'To Sonny.' Inside was a severed big toe. No note.
I went upstairs, got my gun and headed down to the boiler room. 'Fuck this shit,' I thought.
I'd had a hard long day. I was hungry. This little piggie just wants to stay home. And have roast beef. And that little piggie will get none.
posted by Sonny Drysdale at 10:40 AM
6 Comments:
Sonny, McLarty Farms are now selling Honey Hams, just the way you like 'em.
Sonny,
I wait, with bated breath and ham sandwich in hand, for Chapter 2.
(Watch out for guys who limp into your lobby).
GAH
Butch - you aren't still using the injection method for sweetenin' them hams are you? Or are you into the Virginia method now?
Chapter @, Gordo?
Well, lets see. I went to the boiler room. Pistol-whipped and then plugged the perp straight between the eyes.
I went upstairs, had a roast beef sandwich au jus, opened a fresh pack of Luckies, lit one up and sat down to an evening of back-to-back re-runs of 'Everyone Loves Raymond.'
But tomorrow is another day.
McLarty Farms Ltd.
From your everyday family meal to the perfect Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Easter and Sonny D's holiday and birthday gifts ... Our Spiral Sliced Glazed Honey Hams, Smoked Turkeys, Smoked Turkey Breasts, Cajun Fried Turkeys And Smoked Briskets are the perfect way to please!
When you think Honey Hams, think McLarty Farms Ltd., just five minutes west of beautiful downtown Delaware, Ontario, at 2424 Gibson Road!
Okay but where's the tough-as-nails dame with a chip on her shoulder, a cigarette that needs lighting, and gams that go up to 'there'?
Eh, broads. Who needs 'em? Can't live with them, can't tie 'em in a sack.
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