An Imagined Conversation & The Heist

So this week my aunt hired me to clean out this house some this crackhead couple lived in. Here's an imagined conversation between the two.

"Oh, honey, shit-battered cockroaches for dinner again!? We had that last night!"
"Oh. Oopsies. You're so right. What should we do with these then?"
"Uh, just dump them inside the burners of the stove along with some molasses."

These people were filthy, and this is coming from a slob. While I enjoy a nice pile of clothing here and there about a room, these people enjoyed having a uniform horrible smell. Every smelly part of their house smelled equally and uniformly rancid Like it was only one compromising smell. Toilet. Carpet. Fridge. I soon began to confuse the original horrid smell with the smell of the original smell drenched in gallons of orange cleaner (great stuff, btw). 

But anyway. Back to the reasonable part of my life.
So today Stephanie comes over, I tell her to park in the doctor's office across the street. She comes to the house for a while and then we decide to go shopping and grab a bite to eat, so we walk over to her car. It's dark. This doctor's office complex is fully dark, all blinds down with one corner office light on, no blinds. This sketchy looking guy is sitting at the desk of the well-lit office. Once he sees me looking at him he starts to hide, darting around the window. Not playfully. 

So then once we get back he starts hiding again, and Stephanie still had yet to see him. So she pulled out and drove a bit, to the second entrance. We drove up to the window just 
in time for him to be able to see him dart away. We had pulled up near the front entrance. I look over to the passenger side, and about three yards away this other sketchy guy is sitting there on the curb. I point him out to Stephanie and she shrieks. She just goes, "I am NOT parking here, I am NOT parking here!" and we drive away. She parks in our driveway. We are laughing our heads off but scared out of our minds. I want to come back and watch. So then we walk back with Domino, armed with Vogue, and sit on the porch of the other house. The window guy is skateboarding around. There's the curb guy, and then some new guy. They are all talking on cell phones. We hide from them, but they probably noticed us. Then they all drove away in a black BMW, which I'd seen there before. 

It was odd. I pictured the story as like the janitor cased the doctor's office and then 
brought some other people to rob it. But it's probably something much less dramatic. I hesitate to tell the people at the office, or what mutti said to do, call the police. 

I'm reading this fabulous book. It's great. Truman Capote talks shit. I might do a more in-depth review if I finish it. (I'm about halfway through as of now). It just got into the factory and all the factory people like Billy Name and Viva are being interviewed. 

Last Saturday at Goodwill someone stole my mom's cart and this book was the only thing in it. She thought someone had just taken it for the cart, so she looked on all the shelves to see where someone had stashed it. And found it back. What a glorious thrift store day. Those people can get so bitchy. But I got a Bill Tice so I'm okay with the setup. I like how the book was published in 1981 so it has a really '80s cover. The reprint has a very dated looking cover as well.  The format for the book is basically the same as the SNL retrospective, "Live from New York" where everyone's interviews are interwoven so it seems like they're telling the story to you. Which is a stellar format. 

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