I'm going to start this by saying that this all happened. I swear.
As most nights, I found myself with a chocolate craving earlier tonight. There was some change jingling in my pocket so rather than satiate this craving with the chocolate that Shawn and Sue brought me from Europe, I decided to put my shoes on and take a walk to the corner RiteAid...
My house is on one end of the street. RiteAid is on the other. It's only two hundred yards or so.
Now I haven't ever done this before, but on the way out the door I felt sort of funny. For the hell of it, I grabbed a box cutter just in case I needed it. People usually don't bother me for anything more than change but it was there and I figured there was no harm in taking it.
I arrived at the store rather quickly. As expected, RiteAid had a sale on some packaging of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Today it was the standard two-packs, a steal at 33 cents a piece. With four packs in hand, I made my way home.
About halfway from RiteAid to the midpoint of the street I heard a bit of a scream, more of a yelp really. About three-quarters of the way I was approached by a small woman holding a stick that was three to four feet in length, well over half her height.
"Dude. Dude. I have to show you something. Come here."
Obviously spooked and holding the stick as if ready to swing at any time she lead me back to where she had emerged from the shadows, the same direction I was headed anyway. A bit suspicious of whether or not I was being set up, I kept my eyes on any places people could be hiding. I kept my hand near the zipper pocket of my shorts that contained the box cutter. To not look too suspicious, I planted my hand in my regular side pocket instead.
"Dude. You, you have to see this. As long as you're not with them. You'r enot with them, are you?"
"Nope, just getting candy." (holding up candy)
"Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Those used to be my favorite. Come here. Look at this. What's your hand doing in your pocket?"
"Nothing. That's just where it goes." (I took it out)
"Ok. Look."
She used her enormous stick to point in the direction of a house. I wasn't too prepared for what came next.
"There's a hand in the garbage can. Do you see it?"
I did not. "No. Which one?"
"There's a hand in there. That one. There." (again with the stick)
It was dark. I still didn't see anything and I didn't really want to turn my back to her as long as she was holding a large, club-like object.
"I don't see anything. But ok."
"Will you walk me back down the street? Unless you're with them."
"Sure."
So I walked her back toward RiteAid. She assured me that she wasn't on any sort of drugs and wasn't any sort of psychotic. So I tried to be as polite as I could while keeping my hand close to or in my pocket, something she repeatedly questioned me about.
"You don't have a gun, do you?"
"Nope. Just some tissues."
When we finally made it to the end I wished her a safe night. She thanked me. I headed back home, knowing I had to walk all the way past RiteAid and past that house to get to mine. Slightly freaked out by her but mostly not taking her seriously, I frequently looked behind me on the way home. As I got closer to the garbage can, I had to decide what I was going to do. Was I going to get a closer look or was I just going to keep walking and let the garbage man find out? I decided to take a smell as I approached. If it was extremely rank, that would be my answer.
*sniffffff*
Nothing.
Shit. I had to look.
So I looked. Grey, stiff, there was a hand in the garbage can. Yeah, you weren't expecting that. Neither was I. I ran home.
Considering the places I routinely hung out at as a kid (railroad tracks, woods, river banks, etc.) I'm surprised that I was never faced with a dead body. You know it's always kids who find them because it's kids who know all the out-of-the-way places. Some of those kids then grow up and remember those good out-of-the-way places as locations to stash dead bodies. Anyway, I've always wondered what I would do. Would I call the police or just wait for someone else to find it? Apparently I'd do neither of those things. Apparently I'd wake Claire up from a sound sleep to tell her I just saw a hand in a garbage can and what should I do and maybe it wasn't even real but there was this woman who saw it too and she had a big stick and I just wanted to get candy but I don't know what I should do what should I do?
After sufficiently freaking her out I decided that I didn't want to call the police until I knew it was really a hand but...
...I didn't want to go alone. And I didn't even want her to come with me because if the person who did that is still running around I didn't want her getting hurt.
I split the difference and went alone but in her car. I pulled up along side the garbage can and looked at it. Right now I'm 90% sure it's a good fake hand...maybe. That brings us to now. That's it, the end of the story. I gave it the best look I could from inside the car and I'm not entirely sure either way.
As most nights, I found myself with a chocolate craving earlier tonight. There was some change jingling in my pocket so rather than satiate this craving with the chocolate that Shawn and Sue brought me from Europe, I decided to put my shoes on and take a walk to the corner RiteAid...
My house is on one end of the street. RiteAid is on the other. It's only two hundred yards or so.
Now I haven't ever done this before, but on the way out the door I felt sort of funny. For the hell of it, I grabbed a box cutter just in case I needed it. People usually don't bother me for anything more than change but it was there and I figured there was no harm in taking it.
I arrived at the store rather quickly. As expected, RiteAid had a sale on some packaging of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Today it was the standard two-packs, a steal at 33 cents a piece. With four packs in hand, I made my way home.
About halfway from RiteAid to the midpoint of the street I heard a bit of a scream, more of a yelp really. About three-quarters of the way I was approached by a small woman holding a stick that was three to four feet in length, well over half her height.
"Dude. Dude. I have to show you something. Come here."
Obviously spooked and holding the stick as if ready to swing at any time she lead me back to where she had emerged from the shadows, the same direction I was headed anyway. A bit suspicious of whether or not I was being set up, I kept my eyes on any places people could be hiding. I kept my hand near the zipper pocket of my shorts that contained the box cutter. To not look too suspicious, I planted my hand in my regular side pocket instead.
"Dude. You, you have to see this. As long as you're not with them. You'r enot with them, are you?"
"Nope, just getting candy." (holding up candy)
"Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Those used to be my favorite. Come here. Look at this. What's your hand doing in your pocket?"
"Nothing. That's just where it goes." (I took it out)
"Ok. Look."
She used her enormous stick to point in the direction of a house. I wasn't too prepared for what came next.
"There's a hand in the garbage can. Do you see it?"
I did not. "No. Which one?"
"There's a hand in there. That one. There." (again with the stick)
It was dark. I still didn't see anything and I didn't really want to turn my back to her as long as she was holding a large, club-like object.
"I don't see anything. But ok."
"Will you walk me back down the street? Unless you're with them."
"Sure."
So I walked her back toward RiteAid. She assured me that she wasn't on any sort of drugs and wasn't any sort of psychotic. So I tried to be as polite as I could while keeping my hand close to or in my pocket, something she repeatedly questioned me about.
"You don't have a gun, do you?"
"Nope. Just some tissues."
When we finally made it to the end I wished her a safe night. She thanked me. I headed back home, knowing I had to walk all the way past RiteAid and past that house to get to mine. Slightly freaked out by her but mostly not taking her seriously, I frequently looked behind me on the way home. As I got closer to the garbage can, I had to decide what I was going to do. Was I going to get a closer look or was I just going to keep walking and let the garbage man find out? I decided to take a smell as I approached. If it was extremely rank, that would be my answer.
*sniffffff*
Nothing.
Shit. I had to look.
So I looked. Grey, stiff, there was a hand in the garbage can. Yeah, you weren't expecting that. Neither was I. I ran home.
Considering the places I routinely hung out at as a kid (railroad tracks, woods, river banks, etc.) I'm surprised that I was never faced with a dead body. You know it's always kids who find them because it's kids who know all the out-of-the-way places. Some of those kids then grow up and remember those good out-of-the-way places as locations to stash dead bodies. Anyway, I've always wondered what I would do. Would I call the police or just wait for someone else to find it? Apparently I'd do neither of those things. Apparently I'd wake Claire up from a sound sleep to tell her I just saw a hand in a garbage can and what should I do and maybe it wasn't even real but there was this woman who saw it too and she had a big stick and I just wanted to get candy but I don't know what I should do what should I do?
After sufficiently freaking her out I decided that I didn't want to call the police until I knew it was really a hand but...
...I didn't want to go alone. And I didn't even want her to come with me because if the person who did that is still running around I didn't want her getting hurt.
I split the difference and went alone but in her car. I pulled up along side the garbage can and looked at it. Right now I'm 90% sure it's a good fake hand...maybe. That brings us to now. That's it, the end of the story. I gave it the best look I could from inside the car and I'm not entirely sure either way.
But seriously. You tell a good story. I may use that someday.
cl0ck
sgnyupstate is having a get together in a few weeks, you should definitely come!