Friday, May 22, 2009

important police business

so i was at the gym this morning, waiting for the nice receptionist to give me the password for the wireless. it was quite early and i had barely gotten there when a guy still in his shirt and pants, with his bag on his back, purposefully walks to the reception: "where is the manager? (while annoyingly clicking his membership card against the counter) get me the manager now or i call the police. come on, where is she? i need her now, or i'll call the police (still clicking the fucking card)" so the poor receptionist started frantically dialing numbers "she's coming sir, she's on the way." of course i was wondering what might it be this early that requires the police. did they charge him twice for his membership? did someone attack him? did he find a body in the locker room? ten seconds later "yes get her now, or i'll call the police, someone stole my sneakers."

someone "stole" his fucking nike sneakers.

imagine the look on the policeman's face when he gets there and he's told he's there for a pair of missing sneakers. i mean you didn't see the self-righteousness on this guy's face. sneakers. in the gym. he probably forgot his fucking shoes at home, the idiot.

the fucking police.

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