I NEVER Get Away

Well, I scooted my way right into another blog topic today. Took a small nap this afternoon and then jumped on my ‘scoot’ to go the restrooms. I decided to take a short cut and rode up the trail that ends right out in front of the building. As I was rounding the corner, humming a lil’ ditty, I spot a ‘copper’ waiting for me. “Crikey” I thought, guess you’re not allowed on the trails w/your small, can only go 40mph scooters. I stopped, he got out of his cruiser. I said “hello”, he replied the same w/the Texan charm I’ve come accustomed to. I beat him to the punch and said “Are you going to tell me that I’m not allowed on the trails w/my scooter?” “Yes, mam, keep the scooters on the roads.” “O.k., I didn’t know that, it won’t happen again.” It was then it came to me, this blogger……I have NEVER gotten away w/anything in my life. If I cheated on a test, between two other people that were also cheating, guess who got caught……Tami. The two other cheaters walked. If I was driving along @ 3:00 a.m. in the morning in a small town of 13,000 where 12,999 were sleeping and I decided to run a red light, the one person in 13,000 was waiting and guess who got caught…..Tami. Even if I didn’t get caught I couldn’t enjoy the crime. The one and only time I ever stole something was when I was about 10 years old. I rode my bike down the mountain that we lived on into the little town of Issaquah, Washington. There was only one grocery store, meat market and a small five and dime that was called “Johnny’s Market.” I went into “Johnnys” and proceeded to steal a box of ‘hot tamales’, my favorite candy at the time. (I still love those little things). I strolled out of the store jumped on my get-away bike and zipped down the street. I didn’t get a block away before guilt took over. I spun my bike around and headed back to put them on the shelf. Before I got there the box fell out of my pocket spilling all the tamales on the ground. You gotta be kidding me. I didn’t let that deter me, (some have called me tenacious) I just dusted them off best I could, stuffed them back in the box, strolled into Johnny’s Market and put them back on the shelf. I can only imagine the look on the person’s face who bought that box of tamales, and opened it anticipating the delicious spicy taste of one of those red hot morsels, only to find it covered w/dirt and small pebbles. My ‘hub’ on the other hand NEVER gets caught. He has ‘scooted, scraped, slid, by even worse ‘crimes’ then those I’ve just described. He’s given me permission to share one, and only one of his slick escapades. He once shot a ‘spitball’ at someone on his bus, only to have two innocent bystanders blamed and suspended from riding the bus thereafter. The ‘hub’ on the other hand continued to catch the bus and ‘chuckle’ like Muttley from the cartoon “Dick Dastardly and Muttley” each time he saw the boy whose head was the target of his spitball. I’ve learned, I am reformed, I don’t try to break/bend the rules anymore. I am a law abiding citizen…..it’s the ‘hub’ you need to watch out for.

1 comment:

NutsyGnome said...

Somehow the gun pointed at the blog entry has convinced me I won't tell anybody about your infractions. It seems to say "Read at your own risk." And I cannot imagine Bill trying to mess anyone's hair with a spitball--or is that why he always makes sure his hair is perfect--so he can find the spitballs that other people throw--or his hair is where he hides his spitballs--or oh my goodness I am getting to the sugar in the gastank mentality at this point! anyway--you are still in my prayers and I think about you often. Love ya both--spitballs and all! ;-)