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While we were meeting all of you, we were also working on a quick pass-along story, which you can read by clicking through to the full post.
The stranger approached me to ask one small favor.
“Do you have a light?”
i rummaged around in my pockets. Between the pack of chewing gum, scraps of grocery lists, Canadian silver dollars, chainsaw, vial of distilled unicorn blood, Target receipts and dry cleaning tickets, I managed to find a light. “Here you go! Careful, it’s hot.”
The stranger frowned, his cigarette hanging awkwardly from between his fingers. “That’s… not what I meant.”
I looked down at the glowing ball of light in my hands. “Not what you meant? But… it’s a light…?
“Right.” I nodded slowly. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and I could tell he didn’t now what to say any more than I did. I figured I’d save both of us a few extra seconds of discomfort. “Well, I should get going.
I began to pivot around, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Wait,” he said, drawing his hand back the moment my eyes shot back to his face. “I didn’t really need a light,” he muttered, drawing a lighter from his pocket.
“Okay?” I took a step back.
He took a bigger step toward me, closeting the gap between us so I could hear him when he said, quietly:
“I stopped you for a reason, okay? I just…” He was scratching the back of his head, I noticed. He was nervous. “I can’t tell you here. I need you to follow me.”
I looked him up and down, from his dark chocolate hair to his century-old chucks. In between packing the unicorn blood and chainsaw, I forgot to bring my standard pepper spray. I mean, the chainsaw would offer maximum protection, but it’d be too messy.
But he seemed more or less okay. I’ve followed a good amount of sketchier people in my time. The worst being that guy with a mullet at the county fair. People with mullets can either be really chill or really creepy. But this guy had a head of curls, so he had to be chill.
“Kay,” I said, prompting him to whirl around his head towards the rear of the building. “This should be fun,” I whispered to myself as I followed. What could be behind the KFC?
Well, I was delighted to be greeted by a dumpster full of dead chicks that KFC uses in its chicken pockets. The stranger proceeded to dumpster dive in the full sea of chicks, so I thought I would gleefully join him.
Then I remembered I was allergic to chicken.
“What’s wrong,” the man said, his curls swallowing in chick guts. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
“It… I mean, it is, it’s more than anything I could’ve dreamed of. I just… get hives.”
The man looked up at me, surprised, and then his face turned to sadness! A world without the magical dumpster was a world without joy.
A bright light shone on the dumpster, highlighting the piece of chicken still fresh in his mouth.
“STEP AWAy FROM THE CHICKEN DUMPSTER,” came over the loudspeaker.
I watched it all to the cuffs going on.
“We finally got this guy,” said the officer as he escorted my curly-haired darling to the patrol car.
I plopped to the filthy ground. No. It couldn’t be. “Why is this man under arrested?”
The police officer turned to look at me.
“You know EXACTLY.”
Well, I didn’t. So the staredown that ensued was all sorts of awkward.
“Um…” I started eloquently. “I… is it anything to do with the dumpster?” He continued staring, though now it seemed more condescending. Well, Christ. Don’t look at me, dude. I have a chainsaw. “The magic dumpster?”
“Wait, there’s a magic dumpster?” the other officer asked. It ruined the tense mood.
Except now my man looked pissed off. Uh oh… that…
That’s as far as we got, but fear not! The story can continue in the comment section below! : D