Every time we get together, John pours out stories, one after the other.
After work at 3 AM? Stories. Changing my motorcycle oil? Stories. Smoking on the balcony? Stories.
All are hilarious and have me laughing out loud until it hurts.
“… and then there was the time we got robbed at my book store.”
“Wait wait… what?” I question him.
“I was working at my girlfriend’s grand parent’s book store. It was a normal, casual day. I’m standing behind the counter, thumbing through motorcycle magazines when a girl walks in, grabs a pretty big stack of books then sits down. But whatever, it’s a fucking bookstore. Nothing suspicious.”
He takes a drag, exhaling into the crisp city air, over the balcony overlooking the city below.
“Then, too quickly, she walked right back out. As I told her ‘Have a good day’ I quickly realized that instead of the one bag she walked in with, she now had two bags, both filled. I whip my head back to her chair. The books were gone.”
Another drag, smoke filling the air as John winds up for the rest of the story.
“I want to stop her and get the books back but she’s a woman and I’m only a 16 year old kid. I don’t want to grab her or do anything that could get me in trouble but she did just take hundreds of dollars in books. I had to do something.
“‘Miss, you need to stop right now!’ I yell while dialing the cops on my cell. But she’s out the door and walking away. I’m not letting this chick just walk out so I run after her. I can tell she’s headed to the trolley stop, which is literally 2 blocks away.”
He leans forward and starts organizing the contents of the coffee table.
“This is the bookstore” as he places the ashtray down.
“This is the trolley station” as he places the Gatorade about eight inches from the ashtray.
“And this right here is the fucking police station” he says, placing his Hard Cider four inches on the other side of the Gatorade-Trolley station.
“She’s headed for the trolley station but I’m on the phone with the police, who are literally right fucking there (pointing to his Hard Cider). All they have to do is send someone outside and she’s toast.
“You know me, man, I have zero filter on my emotions and I literally give zero fucks about what people think of me. So when I’m mad, I’m fucking pissed. And I was pissed, yelling at the top of my lungs at this fucking woman, ‘Give me back my fucking books’ and ‘This fucking woman stole my fucking books’”.
I’m literally falling out of my chair laughing, imagining John running down the street, yelling at the police on the phone while simultaneously screaming at the woman attempting to evade his wrath.
“She gets on the trolley but I stick my foot in the door right as it’s closing. She’ sitting 15 feet away on the far end of the trolley, but I stay at the door, holding it open so the trolley can’t leave. I’m still on the phone with the cops while simultaneously yelling at this woman. You can imagine I was making quite a scene.”
“Wait, wait. You were holding the door open so the trolley couldn’t leave? While you’re yelling at this woman?”
“Exactly. For like… Eight minutes.”
“Yeah and then this security guard tries to tell me to stop holding the door open.
“‘Thank god, security will help me out’ I think. I explain the situation and that he should arrest her for theft, but he said it was ‘out of his control.’ Of course he says that, so I respond how any normal person would.
“I told him he’s fucking worthless to his face and to get the hell out of here.”
John says this in a “Dude, you said actually said that?” kind of way that only comes from someone who is a professional at talking shit through a microphone on a gaming console.
“Dude, how many people were on this trolley?”
“It was around five o’clock so it was packed.”
“WHAT? And no one told you to get the hell out of the door?”
“Man, plenty of people did. I just yelled ‘Mind your own fucking business!’”
Literally dying laughing, imagining this scene.
First, there’s a crowded trolley filled with people who just want to be home after a long day of work. Then up runs a scared woman followed by a raving, yelling lunatic who blocks the door from closing, not letting the trolley leave. And not only is he holding the door open, he’s yelling vulgar profanities at a woman huddled in a seat in the far corner. And he’s flipping off the conductor. And he’s yelling at other passengers. And he’s on the phone with the cops.
For four minutes.
“Eventually the driver of the trolley comes back and tells me I have to get out of the door because I’m holding up the traffic and fucking everything up. Considering I had been flipping him off and yelling at him for the last three minutes he was actually pretty nice.”
“So what happened?”
“I regretfully stepped away from the door, to the deep appreciation of all the passengers, and watched as this bitch got away with stealing a couple hundred dollars in books. The cops ended up arriving 20 minutes later but said they couldn’t really do anything because I didn’t know which exact books were taken and blah blah. Useless pigs.”