Five o'clock in the morning and I get a call telling me my truck's been stolen. What fun.
Police tell me it's in the lot of a hotel by the airport. Rosalita drives me over and the cops are waiting. They say they got a call from hotel security and showed up to find a guy asleep at the wheel of my truck. To make it clear, they have the stolen vehicle and the thief out cold inside it.
He got away.
Apparently he was a little guy and really fast. Anyway I absorb this wonderful tidbit and check the inside. There's a box in the backseat and I say, "That isn't mine". They pull it out and it's a PS3, brand new. Front seat has a backpack which ended up having a GPS thingy and other assorted shit in it. The CD I had in the player was in the backseat so the little fucker had bad taste in music too.
Anyway I got it home and did some searching for repair places, waited for the one I picked to open, started my truck with a screwdriver, drove it over and got them to drive me back. When we pull up there's a cop talking to a guy. His car got broken into last night. Busy little shitball, wasn't he?
To sum up, blargh.
2 comments:
The fuck? What kind of raging incompetents do you have to be to lose the guy when you have him asleep in the goddamn stolen truck?
Actually, strike that... what kind of raging morons do you have to be to admit you lost the guy when you had him asleep in the goddamn stolen truck?
I know, right. So I miss a day of work, which I hate doing unless I plan to do it, and am out the cash for the repair and for a new steering wheel club because apparently my truck is ridiculously easy to steal. Also I had to have the entire steering column replaced just to fix it.
I love my life.
Post a Comment