Parking lot road rage - By N.L. Belardes

It was tax time at the Buck City chuck wagon. Noveltown too. Time to tally up the books and CDs and see just how many lollipops worth of merchandise have been sold to supporters. Not the readers, but the supporters. You know who you are. And if you aren’t, now’s the time to buy a book or purchase a CD so this site can stay afloat. Yes, financial support is important. What’s $10.00 for a CD, $13.95 for a book, or $6.00 for an e-book? Remember, Noveltown is the only publishing company in the Southern Valley. Support it.

And it’s about to publish something big. Not by me, but by one of you fellow writers...

Stay tuned for the new Noveltown as it reaches out to the community to support Central Valley writers and California literature in both print and e-book form.

Now for my story of the day:

So there I was, getting all my beef jerky records together with accountant extraordinaire Matildakay. Although there were a million companies in this building, we parked in what we thought was a client spot for some lame-o billing services company. Of course we were wrong about it being a ‘client spot’ because when we came back outside we saw some yeehaw cowpoke had parked his Range Rover right behind us. I mean right as ass-close as you can get without spooning. “Uh oh. Someone is mad we took his spot,” I said. “Must be some president sleeze by the look of the car.” Right then I thought about what a key might do to this here yodeler’s paint job.

“Maybe they’re just running in for a second,” Matildakay said.

“Nah, this Wrangler is trying to piss us off. I knew the type: all cocky, chauvenistic and with his dollar bills rolled tight up his ass like a Simon Sundale with hair and youth on his side.”

So we waited a couple of minutes. No sign or smoke signal. So off I went to the lobby to find out where the Billing Services Company might be. Third floor. Easy enough. I took the elevator up and exited to find a posh office with sappy elevator music and Barbie Doll secretaries in mini-skirts. I was thinking their G-strings were pretty far up their buns by the way they faked their smiles and looked astonished when I arrived. I was thinking they knew what was up and were hoping for an OK Corral kind of fight. But I wasn’t about to show my guns. I’d rather the yodeler smoke in his britches. “Anyone up here own a white Range Rover? I think I pissed whoever it is off by parking in his spot.”

One young girl appeared a little timid. “I’ll tell him,” she said.

Pretty soon she came back out with her lipstick all smeared and said, “He’ll be right down.”

And so I took the elevator back down, got in the car and waited. I started giggling when the yodeler came out and checked the passenger side to see if I had keyed his beloved Range Rover. Good thing I only just thought about it. And good thing I wasn’t in a hurry.

I rolled down the window. Just to piss him off I said, “Sorry sir. It won’t happen again. I didn’t know. My apologies.”

He looked pretty rattled, like a tumbleweed had just got stuck in his patch of daisies.

Matildakay and I started laughing pretty hard, but only after he got his Range Rover the hell out of our darned tootin’ way. Talk about parking lot road rage...

OK, you were just entertained. Now go support! Please with sugar on top.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Tuesday, March 28, 2006. You can leave your response.