Have you ever wondered what happens if you cross an ape with a zebra? Obviously you have. Although I myself have not. However. Oddly. I got to find out. Kind of bizarre. Not bizarre in a zebrape, hybrid kind of way. Bizarre in a no-way-did-that-just-happen, kind of way. So bizarre I actually forgot it happened. Thank funk I get flashbacks. Or memory jogs. Or scribble down notes. Only reminded when I walked by the scene of the crime again yesterday. Scene of the crash, to be more exact. And to think. All started with a mysterious man named Neil. Kind of. Not at all.
Neil At The Deal At The Leeds Mattress Store!
I’ve no issues with drunken texts. Make perfect sense no matter what. 99% of the time anyways. Poetic nuggets, some might say. Shut up, most will say. Far more issues with early morning texts. Or texts I attempt to send within one hour of waking up. May not always be early morning. Ever. The time my body is up yet my brain is still sleeping in. Just ten more minutes. Groan. Rolls over. An hour later. And I’m still struggling with that a simple text. Stop. Start. Complete. Nonsensical. Gibberish. Words just thrown in sporadically that have no relevance. Word I hear. A food I might be eating. ‘Oh yeah that does sound good. Did I tell you I found my hat? That works with my. Mattresses. Plan. What time so? Porridge’.
So sending texts. Had me distracted. While mesmerizingly bad ads were on T.V. And I was making breakfast. Which was actually a dinner. A lot going on, in my defence. Not realising what time it was. Catching the clock’s eye. Computing that the bank would be closed pretty soon. Needed to get going. Scuttling out the door. Half dressed. Half fed. Fully late. In my third attempt to cash a cheque. Not so much a problem with me, for once. Problem with the cheque. Or the person who wrote it. Got my name wrong. Surname. Heiles. Heiles indeed. Merrick Heiles. My alter ego.
Onion. Stew. Pit.
Up to the bank. Looking for the guy who set up my account. Friendly guy. Flamboyant guy. Sound dude. Set up my account when I only had an old Irish I.D. Fan of the accent it seemed. He’ll vouch for me. He knows that’s me on the cheque. He got my name wrong numerous times when he set-up the account in the first place. Get to the counter. Informed that Jacob is out sick again. Strike three. Teller asks to look at the cheque. She might be able to help. Get the cheque. Pulling out various items out of my pockets. Wallet. Notepad. Remote control. Phone. iPod. Onion. Chewing gum. Tic-tacs. Wait, what? Why do I have a T.V remote? And an onion? A big red onion. Holding it up. Looking at it in wonder. Where did that come from? Is it actually an apple? Ha. No. Laughing to the teller. Who nervously smiled back. Ha. Ha. Hmm.
Copping on. Cooking breakfast. Dinner. Carrying vegetables. Fridge to the counter. Overloaded. Put one onion in my pocket. Neil came on T.V. Forgot about the onion. Until now. Shrugging. Not saying anything to the teller. Just putting everything on the counter. Handed her the cheque. Unfortunately, I think she was afraid of onions. Change of vibes. Couldn’t cash the cheque with the wrong name. Wait for Jacob to get better. Or simply get a new cheque. Oh right. Makes more sense. Ok so. Good trip to the bank. I’ll be off. Headed to leave. Called back. Forgot your onion. Oh yeah. My onion. Might as well take it home with me. Off I went. Quick coffee stop. Homeward bound. Coffee in one hand. My onion in the other.
He Can Walk! It's A Miracle!!!
Dark outside. And I’d barely been up an hour. Book life. Night life. No wonder I have the glow of a vampire at the moment. Walk on. People in LA are still amazed by walking more than 4 blocks to somewhere. A miraculous feat! Jim in the gym thinks it’s amazing that I walk the 6 blocks or so there. Amazed. No parking validation? Amazing! Good for you! Yeah. Just great.
Anyways, walking down from Sunset along Crescent Heights towards my abode. About a third of the way down there is a zebra in the middle of the road. A zebra crossing. No traffic lights. Not a junction or anything. Just a normal zebra crossing. Where people can stop as they might do normally. If they want to. Which they normally never do.
Still, I always cross there. Call it habit. Call it OCD. I cross there. Always. If I take that route. Which I do. Go on the unofficial OCD. Standing at the zebra crossing. Waiting. Cars zipping by. Break in traffic. Here we go… Nay. Here comes a new batch. Just wait some more. Surprisingly. Car slows down. Stopping. Letting me cross. Shocking. Cheers boss. Start strolling across the road. A bit surprised. But not as much as I would be about 10 seconds later. Just as I reached the halfway point in the street.
Smack, Crumple & Pop
Get to the island in the middle of the street. Car #1 slowly took off as I reached halfway. Car behind that had also stopped as normal. However, the Mini behind that, did not. Must’ve also been surprised someone stopped at the zebra. Car 1 takes off. Car 2 still stopped. Mini. Here she comes. Screech. Crash. Bang. Wallop. Smack. Crumple. And. Pop. Ploughs into the back of the second car. Driving it forward. Car behind the Mini follows suits. Bang. Mini goes up on its front two wheels. Hind legs off the ground. Driving car 2 even further forward. Right past me on the island. Three car pile-up. Ish. I’m glued to the zebra. Looking on in disbelief. Flashed by. Yet slow motion. Staring. Holding my coffee. And my onion. All. A. Bit. Odd.
Mini pops back down on all fours. People get out of their cars. Scratching their heads. Wondering who to blame. I’m still stuck on the island. Looking on. People figuring out who did what. Whose fault. Police are driving by. Pull in. Sirens on. Lights flashing. Kind of pointless. But still. Girl in car 2 reveals she was texting. Well done. Passenger in her car hushes her to shut-up. Realises she just admitted to fault. Tries to pawn off the blame. Asks me at one stage what I did I think I was doing? What was I doing? I was crossing the road. What were you doing? Oh yeah. Texting and driving.
Pass On The Baton
Police ask me what I was doing. Walking. Crossing. Turned around. Saw that unfold. Happy with that. No problem. Nobody was hurt. Cars were just pretty bashed up. Fronts and rears. Thankfully, no tears. Besides the crocodile ones the girl produced in her last attempt to say she lied about texting. I was no longer needed. Turn to leave. Notice a randomer has been standing next to me on the island. Tall guy. Long hair. Older chap. Wearing a rolled up woolie hat. Bright white. Jumper. Bright black. Way too small. Shorts. Bright white. Way too short. Asking what happened. Not too sure. Keeps talking away. To me. Or himself. Not too sure.
Zebra incident over. Small talk over. Time to go. Nod goodbye to fellow islander. Stops me. Asks why I’m holding an onion. Not too sure. Asked if he can have it. Why not. Hand it over. Got a bizarre flash forward. A tingle. Did I just give future me an onion?! Passing on a baton?! Thankfully, my brain woke up at this point. Said don’t be stupid. Shut up. Leave future me talking to himself. Or was it myself? Just go home. So off I went. Forgetting that had all even happened. Until I walked by yesterday.
Zebrapes. Be careful what you hy-breed. And now. Seeing as those shorts were far too short. I just hope there’s no such thing as the onion effect. Oh Jesus. Brutal. I could do with an editor for the blogaruu to be true. Good duckaduu! (Song 2 is a gem!)
Giving Up The Gun – Vampire Weekend
French Jeans – MVSEVM