Week in review

I'd like to say that since I've come to Seattle I've had many adventures. I'd like to say I haven't spent all my time shelving books, meeting with university people, and reading, and mopping. I'd like to give a reason why I haven't been blogging like a good blogger should, so that you'd excuse my absence and shower my with love and gifts.

I'd like to say that, so I will.

Oh, where to begin?

So, I'm just sitting there, right? And Catherine, she says to me, “I want you to go buy some peaches.” Just like that, “some peaches.” I tell ya. So, like I know any better, I say to her, “What, you got some bowel trouble or something?” Then Wham!!! Now I gotta buy peaches and replace the apple she broke on my head.

Like I got nothing better to do. Sheesh.

So I head down to Safeway, right? I mean, it's the closest place, and I don't need to go all that way to the guy who sells produce out the back of his van. Makes me nervous, that guy. Like, if this is your job, why are you in a van? But anyway, I head to the Safeway, and I buy the peaches. And an apple, don't even tell me about it.

So I'm paying for the fruits, and, I don't know, walking out, when these four guys in masks come in. With guns. I know, you're thinking, “Why the heck would they come to a Safeway?” That's what I was thinking. So they mug some guys, and open some registers, and run around the back or something, and whatever. My mom always says I look like a bum, and I guess it helps, 'cause they don't even talk to me. Except on the way out, this one guy, short kinda fella, I guess he didn't have nobody else to boss around, being short, so he takes my peaches.

Well, damn (pardon my french) if I'm gonna be ok with that.

So I run out, and you know, there's this town car flying out of the parking lot, and it cuts off this city bus. Lights flash, tempers flare, but no one's really hurt, right? Only I run to the street, and the next stop is way too far away. I mean, I'm no jogger, and that town car is headin' up the hill on 45th as fast as traffic will let it go, which isn't too fast. People being very conscientious drivers in these parts. Some of them, anyway.

So, what am I thinking, nothing, right, except I want my da-, excuse, my peaches. So I'm not even thinking as I jump on the back of the bus and hold on for dear life. Just outta the movies, right? Except Bruce Willis never has a cop right behind him. Lights flash. Sirens shriek. Tempers, well, you know. What I hadn't noticed, and neither did the cop, was that another damn (sorry) town car (was there a special on these things or what?) was flying outta the other Safeway entrance. I take my eyes off the cop, look in, and darn it all, there's shorty, eating my peaches!

What a predicament.

So these grocery gangsters (I made that up myself) see the lights, hear the sirens, and figure the cop is there for them, not seeing me as I hafta jump back off the bus (my knees'll never be the same), and they start shootin'. I'd like to say I rushed in, distracted them while the cop pulled off some shots or something, but I'm no hero. I just want my peaches. So the cop stops, they pull out, our city's finest starts to follow (guess he's ok), and I'm thinking “Great, now how do I follow them?”

When the Express rolls by.

Only it's not stopping here like the other one did, so my jump this time was, well, I don't like the word acrobatic, if you know what I mean, but let's just say Mr. Willis would be proud. Maybe that's how all those guys do it, just concentrate on something else. Maybe not peaches, but to each his own, right.

So I'm clinging like heck to the back of this bus, trying get as far away from the asphalt as I can, because it even looks painful at this speed, and trying to poke my head around the corner to see where the little peach-thief is going, and wouldn't you know, they take a left on to Montlake. The express stays on 45th.

Sheesh.

Robbers, left. Cop, left. Me? I'm thinking fruits, and that leads me to one place, right onta the roof of a passing Miata. The driver hears a thump and swerves a bit, and let me tell you, that's no picnic. I've got my fingernails dug into whatever groove I can find between the roof and the windshield, my knuckles white, my heart racing and, hey, I don't know what else. Let's say I'm glad I didn't have that glass of water before leaving the house. The Miata didn't slow down, and thinking back, I have to wonder what the guy was thinking? Maybe, “How the heck do I get this bozo offa my car?” Maybe. The bad guys screw up as they take a right into the University, cause the roads are thin, windy, uphill, and full of coeds. At least, that's what the yells and screams sound like. Big blue follows, and Miata must have an appointment with an academic type, 'cause he's heading up that was too. A coupla bangs, and crash, and the town car is going off the road and down the hill, into the trails through the gardens. On it's roof, like.

I jump off the Miata, good thing, he's stopping at the gate to pay a toll, and I don't have much change left, and run down as fast as I can. Ok, the hill is a little steep. Ok, I fall down. I told you, I'm no action guy. The bad guys look hurt, you know, the officer looks like he knows he's getting a promotion, but I count heads, and one-two-three-hey where's shorty?

Running through the bushes, by the sound of it.

I crash off that way, I hit some blackberry bushes, and, if you're not from around here, we got them everywhere, but what you might not know is that what you look at is the berries but what you feel are all the darn prickers. That little guy is gonna owe me, and I get out just ahead of him, and he's still holding my peaches! What's with this guy, huh? Though I guess I'm lucky, 'cause if the cops got them they'd be evidence, and by the time I see them, they'll probably look like everything else that's left out for more than 30 minutes around here. That means mold, in case you didn't know it.

Shorty gets all tough, “Get outta my way!” But I want my peaches, and I tell him so. He takes out a knife, and I'm like, I gotta deal with this? But I've already had one apple broken on me, and I can at least hit shorty back. Shorty swings his knife, but stubby arms are no good for this, and I step in and belt him one on the jaw. That's it. No big fight, no bad kung-fu moves. Shorty's a one-punch kinda guy. And I'm glad. I grab my peaches (what's left of them, anyway), and head towards the road. Of course, I'm outta bus fare, and so I gotta walk home.

I thought about calling you-know-who for a pick-me-up, but, yeah right, we know that ain't gonna happen.

So I get home to the tune of “How long does it take to get peaches?” No thanks, no nothin'. I mean, show a little, whaddaya say, gratitude, huh?

And anyway, from now on, I go to the guy in the van. I mean, it's a longer walk, but I figure it'll be my, whaddaya call it, constitutional. Ya gotta watch your health, right? I wish it didn't take so long, though.

Like I got nothin' better to do. Sheesh.