last night i arrive home from work to find that someone (possibly me) had previously consumed every last drop of whiskey in the likker cabinet (middle row of the North wall bookshelf, 3rd shelf from the floor, as well as the 2nd shelf, 1st shelf, 4th shelf etc etc) and so I bounce back downstairs to the 7-11 to rectify the situation.
In the robot-festooned lobby various pricey suits half-in-garment bags are strewn about the floor. Course, I surreptitiously check the sizes to see if they might fit me and am disappointed to find that they are all tailored for a midget.
After securing an overpriced pint of Crown from the 7-11, I anticipatory-jollily(?) whistle-walk back into the building to find various
opies wearing far cheaper suits and narrow ties scurrying about like ants servicing their queen (a Yoko Ono looking lady in a red leather suit) and gathering up arm-loads of half-garment-bagged midget suits and other various and sundry midget detrius.
They overfill the East elevator and promptly have it take them the wrong way (down) soze I punch the button and grab the West
elevator. Once inside and alone with my whiskey I unscrew the cap from the bottle of Crown--Bam!--the queen reaches in and stops the door and commands the ill-suited drones to quickly fill my elevator. I'm like, "yo, Yoko, there'll be another chopper after this one, aight?" She shoots me and my whiskey the stink-eye and takes up the far corner of the elevator.
I proffer the Crown and she says, "maybe if we get stuck in here together". And I'm like "su-weeeeet!" and then the ill-suited drones haphazardly toss midget-sized suits etc into a pile in the middle of the elevator. Then 3 of them + nother dude in a better suit slides in, sees my open pint of Crown and wonders if it's legal to be drinking in the elevator.
As I'm pressed up against the button-bank I guess that they are going to the top floor, as "
the 2nd-to-top floor is for the Pink Monkey strippers, sure you guys don't want any whiskey? What are you guys, the Reservoir Dogs moving service? Which one's pink?" Nada. Jeesh, tough crowd.
Queen Yoko ups the intensity of her stink-eye, I wink and take a pull off the Crown and then promptly have a choking/coughing fit. Damn, thought I had a shot til then.
We all sorta spill out of the elevator and I point out that they aren't very good at this whole moving thing and walk off to be alone with my whiskey and leave them to their midget menswear.
Smash-cut to this AM and me returning from the 7-11 with a 'nother bottle of Crown, couple of six-packs and a bag of Munchos. One hand in the bag of Munchos and a fresh beer in the other and plastic bags dangling from both arms I stop dead in my tracks:
http://reason.com/assets/mc/jtaylor/rahm.jpgMouth agape with half-chewed Munchos, I take a swig off the beer and mumble "moving in?" "yeah, boss" "uh, congratulations! whiskey?"
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