[This post is not motorcycle or pizza related. If you want something relevant, have you seen this thing? Sure, it's stupid in every way. I still want one.]
Yesterday was just plain fucked up.
For one thing, the weather was gloomy all day long. Frankly, I think gloomy weather is awesome, but that's because Arizona gets about three gloomy days every ten years.
Lady Luck and I woke up sort of late, and had a breakfast of steak and eggs. I'd ruined the steak the night before by overcooking it (I didn't want to under-cook the bacon it was wrapped around), so we wound up smothering our breakfast in ketchup and A1.
It was pretty good.
A little later, we opened up a bag of assorted holiday nuts. Really, I've never been much for raw nuts, but I thought I'd give them a whirl this year and see if I felt any differently. I do the same thing every year with olives. I never like either.
Anyway the very first nut (a pecan, if you want to know) I had turned out to be a bad nut. A very bad nut. Instead of tasting like a nut, it tasted like, well, pure bitter and sour. It was the kind of bad taste that sends a burly moto-man running from the room in search of the trash can to spit out the vileness which has invaded his mouth. It was the kind of bad taste that made me nearly throw up in the sink, and my mouth felt all funky, dry and rubbery for quite a while afterwards.
The rest of the day was kind of weird after that, but things didn't get really weird until after dinner.
Lady Luck and I went out for a bicycle ride with our friends. We were nearly home, and about thirty feet from our house we saw a little red car start to back up. And then the car continued accelerating, in reverse, towards us. The S.O.B. barely missed us, in fact.
All of us are accustomed to asshole drivers, so we shrugged it off saying, "That was weird."
Just as we reached our house, I saw a woman walking on our street. I said, "Hi," as I passed by. I was putting our bikes away when I heard a woman saying, "That guy in the car exposed himself to me," to our friends.
So the story goes, she was staying at a nearby hotel and went for a walk. This guy nearly ran her down, then started harassing her. She walked into our neighborhood to get away from him, and he followed her. He then asked her for sexual favors while playing with himself in plain view.
Naturally, I offered to walk with her across the street to the police station so she could report what happened. She didn't want to go. So, we called the police instead. An officer showed up about twenty minutes later. While we were waiting, however, we all started to get a weird vibe off of this lady. While we were making conversation, we got some really weird answers to our questions. For example, why was she in town?
"Visiting and to get some re-certifications."
Oh, neat. What certifications?
Cool, what school are you doing that at?
A place in Tucson.
Hwah? That's two hours away!
We got some other odd answers while we talked. The officer showed up, and talked to her for a bit, then asked us all questions and got our details. My friend asked the officer if he could talk to him for a minute about something unrelated, when they were done.
The lady got thoroughly weirded out then, and asked my friend if there was something he wasn't telling her.
Once the officer was done talking to her, Lady Luck and I offered to give her a lift back to her hotel (which was very, very close to our house). She accepted, but asked us if we knew her husband first.
Anyway, I gave her a lift back to her hotel, and made sure she got into the building safely. Then I zipped back home, feeling odd, but like I'd done my good deed for the day.
When I got home, my friend stopped by and told me the cop said he would have made her walk back, and she had an order of protection against her.
Which made me think, gee, thanks for saying something before we left, officer.
I do not regret helping her out, or giving her a ride, but once the officer had left, the speculation between the four of us got pretty wild. After all, there are a wide variety of pay-as-you-go motels nearby, not to mention some pay-as-you-go friends to match.
Here's the scenarios we came up with:
1. Everything happened exactly as she said, and she was just a lady in sparkly pants having a really bad night.
2. She was a hooker, and everything else was just as she said.
3. She was a hooker and the guy was a John giving her trouble / a John who hadn't paid her
4. ZOMG! Zombie Hooker Apocalypse We're All Gonna Die!
Since scenario four seemed the most likely, I spent the rest of the night fortifying our ground floor windows to keep zombies out, and delicious Lucky flavors in. My friend and I spent some time discussing which variety of firearm was likely the most effective against zombie hookers, then dismissed the whole thing as moot since neither of us own a gun.
Based on some other weirdness in our neighborhood recently, I thought briefly about getting an ASP baton. I've decided instead to invest in a 4 D-cell Mag-lite for night time trips to the mailbox, as I expect it could do some serious damage to a zombie, and it's actually useful when no zombies are around.
I mean, you never know.