Thanks to Hal, and his amazing ability to accomplish a vast amount of nothing in such a short amount of time, I was late in my return back to the house. My tardiness grew exponentially as I had to clean, what I thought was, blood splatter from within the cab of the van. More than likely it was coffee. A disturbingly dark brew perhaps derived (steaming fresh) out of the ass of an Indonesian Civet. Whatever it was, the direction of the spray would indicate that that the victim’s carotid artery had been perforated, or the driver was simply drunk. At least these were the stories I told myself as I attempted to find the nearest convenience store in order to purchase a variety of disinfecting agents. I had to tell myself these stories, or I would begin to cry. I’m sensitive. It’s what I do. I’m good at it.
With the vehicle removed of all visible homicidal evidence, I arrived home to a number of dear, trusted friends waiting to pack us up and send us off. From the talent I had gathered, I knew this move would be quick. I just needed to dose the cat with tranquilizers, send the extra pills to Mama, and we could be on our way. Unfortunately, Mama Universe would have other plans. Remember - we were not heeding the sign posts she was laying out before us. I didn’t major in drama as I already excelled at it.
After dosing the cat, and watching her eyeballs retreat into her skull; which was not unlike a typical day with Mama, I exited the house to follow-up on our progress. My friend Doug (the Moving Whisperer) approached me with a bit of concern. He’s a forensic psychologist. I thought he was going to tell me that he had found the body that belonged to the splatter, but I wasn’t that lucky. Doug stated, “I think you need to consider leaving some items behind.” I pooped a little, tightened my gut and sternly asked, “Why would you say something so horrible to me...right now?” He replied, “Why don’t you take a look at the van, and then look at what still needs to be packed, and then we’ll talk.” I did as I was instructed. If anything, I was curious. Unfortunately, he was right, but I refused to leave anything behind. It wasn’t an option.
The only solution would be to use our new car as additional storage space; however the car was across town at another U-Haul dealer awaiting to be hitched to our van. I would now have to go fetch it. The time we had gained was now quickly slipping away. If I was an alcoholic, I would’ve been unconscious, lying in a gutter, pissing in my pants with gleeful abandon. Luckily, I’m far too vain to be found in such a state, so I pursued a prettier, different route.
Alex, Doug’s husband, volunteered to take me out to the U-Haul dealer. On the way out we shared some inappropriate giggles regarding the amusements that can only occur when you move with your “one and only”, and suddenly...life didn’t seem so bad. “Who needs booze and kitty tranquilizers? Leave those for Mama! I’m going to have a new life in California! Pass the Freixenet...dis be a pah-tay!” It would be less of a party, and more like a funeral.
Once at the U-Haul dealer my blissful rant was smacked down as I set off the car alarm. “Keyless entry” was new for someone who had never owned a vehicle that possessed any options above power steering. I looked back in search of Alex. He was gone. Given that I had just purchased the vehicle, and an owner’s manual was absent at the time of purchase, I had no idea as to how to turn it off. I began to look around. Not for help, but for an escape route. I was beginning to attract an audience. Not because of the alarm, but because I was doing that vulgar laugh/cry/hiccup thing that is usually reserved for five year olds.
Somehow I managed to smash the correct series of buttons, and the alarm was silenced. The crowd diminished as it became clear that I was simply an idiot, and not in need of medical assistance or a police escort. Then the door wouldn’t open, so I put the key in the lock and set off the alarm for a second time. Buttons were smashed again, in no particular order, and the alarm was silenced. I bit my lip, entered the vehicle and then I received a text from Doug: “Re-packing van. Looks good!” I cried. My bonus excursion to the U-Haul dealer had been in vain, but it was the last time I would shed a tear...at least for the next 24 hours.
