Penultimate (REDUX)

1.4.2014

Continued from 1.3.2k2

After a while, my friends and family began to notice my strange new habit. At first they chuckled at its novelty, but when they witnessed my frenzied shoe vacuuming, they stopped laughing.
I hadn’t realized that I was causing such a spectacle that day they found me out, but how could I explain my intra-barhop pit-stop at the Spiffy Auto Wash’s coin-fed car vac? We had just finished off the High Life at one dive and started the two-block trek to another oasis when the cat hair on my shoes lit that fire of obsession in my guts. It so happened that we were right in front of the car wash and I, forgetting myself, sprinted for the high-power vacuums, threw in quarters and luxuriated in the industrial suction. As I “came to,” I crossed the pavement to rejoin my friends and their looks told me volumes: “What the?” and “You’re a freak” and simply, “Dude.” “What,” I said, vainly attempting to deflect their contempt, “I had something on my shoe.” My brother, who scarcely holds anything back, said, “Something’s on your shoe, you scrape it off with a stick. You don’t foot-hump a car vacuum.” “I didn’t foot-hump a car vac,” I said, “there was cat hair on my shoes and I had to get it off.” He looked at me sideways and said, “Cat hair. You’ve got a problem, dude.”
My brother’s brutal honesty that night triggered a dormant no-bullshit-obsessions gene that had taken a back seat to my shoe-vacuuming obsession. I hadn’t realized it, but it had become slightly out of control. It was time to get on that road to recovery, and I knew just how to do it.

To be concluded.

Tonight - 500 Club - (a TNSC favorite for unknown reasons)


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!