Nonsense That Makes No Sense

Captain Beyond—“Captain Beyond”

MoTW—“Garden State”

Last week I had one of those days that could have been on those
life-changing moments but, when all was said and done, it was just
another one of THOSE days in my exciting life.

It all started with a specific road being closed due to some roadwork or
something. Since the 2006 Super Bowl is coming to Detroit, it was
decided that maybe the roads should be fixed so that people coming to
visit would look at the nice, shiny roads and say to themselves, “Hey,
this is a city with nice, shiny roads and that’s what I’ve been looking
for my whole life and now I’m going to move here”, or something like

They’re even organizing clean up crews where normal citizens band
together to spiff up the city so those from out of state won’t see the
true cesspool Detroit really is or how corrupt the mayor’s office is, or
something like that, but it’s okay cause the city is going to look
“nice” for some silly football game.

Anyway, I had to take an alternate route since the road I normally take
was shut down, so I followed the detour signs but found that the detour
signs aren’t really specific on where you need to go so I soon found
myself passing a line of cars that lucked out and were in the correct
detour lane and I really couldn’t force myself into the line since
everyone in line look really pissed off, so I kept on going figuring
that I’d eventually get back on track, or carjacked and killed.

As luck would have it, after 15 minutes of aimless driving I found signs
pointing towards where I wanted to go, so I chuckled and congratulated
myself on my luck and followed the arrows to the interstate.

Since I’d never been in this part of town before, I didn’t know exactly
what lane I needed to be in so, of course, I ended up in the wrong lane
and watched as the cars to my left headed to the on ramp, the on ramp I
needed to be on.

I slowed down and was going to get into the correct lane when the
traffic died down but found I couldn’t do this since there was an island
between the on ramp road and whatever road I was on so I braked and sat
there for a minute figuring that I did not want to keep on going since
that would probably get me hopelessly lost, so I decided to go in
reverse just far enough so that I could merge onto the on ramp and not
worry about running over the island.

I checked the rearview mirror and slowly backed up as a few cars went
around me, but they understood since I still have out-of-state plates on
the car, and that’s what out-of-staters do.

A few more feet and I would be good to go, and then I felt something hit
the back of the car. I looked back and saw nothing, so I figured it was
a bat or some other sort of flying creature, so I kept going but then
felt the back tires and then the front tires roll over something.

I kept slowly reversing until I could see what it was that I had run
over, and to my relief I found it was just some piece of metal. Praying
that nothing had punctured the tires, I backed up a few more feet and
finally was able to merge onto the on ramp and make my merry way home.

As contented as I could be, I cranked up the stereo and congratulated
myself on not getting hopelessly lost, carjacked and murdered. I
welcomed the familiar sites as I drove home, luxuriating in life knowing
that this was the first day of the rest of my life.

A few miles from home the rains came and with the rains come the tiny
frogs. This time the little frogs were yellow, and I slowly weaved
around the hopping frogs, wanting to give them a new lease on life
exactly like I had been given.

The cop who just happened to be parked on the side of the road didn’t
understand that the gentle weaving of my car was due to my
thoughtfulness to nature. Instead he thought I was mighty drunk and
decided to do his civic duty and pull me over.

I tried to explain the frogs to him but he wasn’t going for it and he
had me step out of the car so he could judge how impaired I was. I
couldn’t walk the line straight since it was wet and slippery and I
couldn’t touch my nose with my fingers because I was still shaking from
my previous euphoria so I was thrown into the back of his cruiser and
taken to the cop shop.

After getting booked, I was led to a holding cell. I figured someone
would eventually come to their senses and let me go, so I decided to
treat it as a little vacation and found myself a corner of the cell,
declared it a “Not Your Bitch” zone to the other soon-to-be inmates and
made myself as comfortable as possible.

I closed my eyes and found my happy place until I heard someone
shouting, “That’s him! That’s him!” I opened my eyes and saw a little
old lady standing outside the cell pointing at me, while behind her
stood a cop holding a twisted piece of metallic something.

The cell door was unlocked and I was dragged from my resting place by a
couple of cops who didn’t seem to be thrilled to see me, and they
plunked me down in a chair right in front of the ancient, wrinkled lady.

“Are you absolutely sure that’s him ma’am?” asked one of the cops.

“That’s him!” she shrieked. “That’s the one the ran over my walker!”

Now I was in deep trouble. I could probably get away from the drunk
driving charge, but there seemed to be no way out of the hit and run
charge that loomed before me. I had to do some serious thinking, and

I was a couple seconds into my serious thinking when I felt a sharp pain
in my ankle. I looked up and saw the old lady directly in front of me
with her leg back ready to give me another feeble kick. And then it came
to me.

“Wait a minute, officers,” I said, causing the lady to stop with the
second kick. “Don’t you think it’s odd having an old lady out at 1 am in
the morning? Isn’t it even more odd that she’s out WITH A WALKER?”

With that the cops gasped. The one holding the twisted remains of the
walker let it fall from his hands and then gasped.

The lady turned red and said, “Why, you little…”

But she never got to finish since the cops saw what I was getting at. As
one they pounced on the lady and started pummelling her until she could
be pummelled no more. When they were done, they shook my hand, called me
a hero and then gave me my car keys and let me continue my journey home.

COMING NEXT: Fitting crates into the drawers

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

4 thoughts on “Nonsense That Makes No Sense

  1. Really? Really really?

    Still so full of cra after sooo many years – stop trying to pick up octogenarian hookers.

    Sicko – Las Vegas messed you up.

    And shouldn’t what happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas? How did you get out?

  2. Who are you to judge me? What you said is hurtful and has made me feel, well, HURT.

    I am revoking your lifetime membership to Crackwhore Village effective immediately.

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