2.
I was working over at the grow and I like to be comfy when I work. So I strip down to boxers and get back at whatever I was doing. Cloning, I think.
Clone area is in a garage separated from the main area by a hallway with two sets of doors. I'm grooving to the radio and am about to start a new set of cuts when I decide to go get a drink out of the fridge. I take my gloves off and set the razor down. Walk over to the door and twist the handle. It's locked. Oh shit!
It's also about 12:30 at night. I have no phone, no keys, no money, and no clothes except for my boxers. If I open the garage door I can get out, but other mofos can see in to my work area. If I open the garage door and close it behind me I'll be totally locked out. What to do?
Tried picking and then breaking the connecting door to the hallway. It's steel and I am not a locksmith. Crap!
So I figured the friendly biker bar down the way would at least let me use their phone, right? Wrong! Douchebags told me that their phone doesn't work and then gave me 15 cents. WTF am I gonna do with 15 cents? Payphones have been 50 cents for years now and there's no foot traffic around here for me to panhandle some more change..... Crap!
So I continue on foot around the corner to the classy, upscale bar. Two old ladies see me coming up the block and quickly get into their car to get away from me. Ahhh, Christian charity.
The bar is already closed, according to the sign, but I can see through the windows and there are a few more patrons finishing up as well as the wait staff. Bang Bang Bang, I knock on the door and attempt to explain myself coherently to the pretty waitress who looks at me through the glass. She looks to her manager for confirmation and he nods consent, even as he's reaching for his shotgun over the bar.
I enter and thank them all profusely and apologize just as thoroughly. They let me use the phone, but I'm really bad at remembering numbers and all my important ones are speed dial anyway! Crap!
After another half-hour of trying all the numbers I can remember and waiting for calls back I've just about given up. My girlfriend would come pick me up, but I have her car. No cabs want to come pick me up for such a short ride and "promised" money at the end of the ride.
Finally one of the bartenders gives me a ride home, after a short stop to lock up the garage, and he even manages to find a jacket in the lost and found so I dont catch pneumonia. What a guy!
God I feel like such an idiot even now. But that shit was funny!
I was working over at the grow and I like to be comfy when I work. So I strip down to boxers and get back at whatever I was doing. Cloning, I think.
Clone area is in a garage separated from the main area by a hallway with two sets of doors. I'm grooving to the radio and am about to start a new set of cuts when I decide to go get a drink out of the fridge. I take my gloves off and set the razor down. Walk over to the door and twist the handle. It's locked. Oh shit!
It's also about 12:30 at night. I have no phone, no keys, no money, and no clothes except for my boxers. If I open the garage door I can get out, but other mofos can see in to my work area. If I open the garage door and close it behind me I'll be totally locked out. What to do?
Tried picking and then breaking the connecting door to the hallway. It's steel and I am not a locksmith. Crap!
So I figured the friendly biker bar down the way would at least let me use their phone, right? Wrong! Douchebags told me that their phone doesn't work and then gave me 15 cents. WTF am I gonna do with 15 cents? Payphones have been 50 cents for years now and there's no foot traffic around here for me to panhandle some more change..... Crap!
So I continue on foot around the corner to the classy, upscale bar. Two old ladies see me coming up the block and quickly get into their car to get away from me. Ahhh, Christian charity.
The bar is already closed, according to the sign, but I can see through the windows and there are a few more patrons finishing up as well as the wait staff. Bang Bang Bang, I knock on the door and attempt to explain myself coherently to the pretty waitress who looks at me through the glass. She looks to her manager for confirmation and he nods consent, even as he's reaching for his shotgun over the bar.
I enter and thank them all profusely and apologize just as thoroughly. They let me use the phone, but I'm really bad at remembering numbers and all my important ones are speed dial anyway! Crap!
After another half-hour of trying all the numbers I can remember and waiting for calls back I've just about given up. My girlfriend would come pick me up, but I have her car. No cabs want to come pick me up for such a short ride and "promised" money at the end of the ride.
Finally one of the bartenders gives me a ride home, after a short stop to lock up the garage, and he even manages to find a jacket in the lost and found so I dont catch pneumonia. What a guy!
God I feel like such an idiot even now. But that shit was funny!