Cool Cactus #10
I'd still be a free man right now if it weren't for that damn fish.
Here's the thing. I have a little girl, and I love her more than anything in the world. She is a daddy's girl and there is no question that she had me wrapped around her little finger from the first moment I set eyes on her. She was so beautiful. And the first time I felt those tiny fingers wrap around my index finger I was done. There was just no helping it. And of course, I don't regret a second of it.
My daughter just turned 4 about two months ago, and for her birthday the wife and I decided to get her a fish. A pretty little tetra. She named him Bob. Why? I have no idea. But Bob was her favorite thing in the world. Now, I should have known better than to get her a pet with such a short life span, but the fact of the matter is, we don't have the lifestyle that encourages longer-lived pets, like cats and dogs. Well, a cat we could probably deal with, but I'm deathly allergic.
The problem with dogs is this - they need to go outside fairly often. And when you're on the run from the law, the last thing you want to do is be out in public. So we needed an indoor pet and a fish seemed like just the thing.
That is until yesterday morning, when the Bob decided to go belly up.
Heartache.
My little girl in tears.
That is something I will not stand for, not when I can do something about it. So off I went to the nearest pet store to find a replacement for Bob. I finally found a parking spot a few blocks from the pet store and hustled on over. There was a bit of a line - apparently ours wasn't the only Bob to go belly up. Finally, the clerk fishes out a new tetra, I pay and off I go.
I get within two blocks of the car when I start getting the heebie-jeebies. Now, I'm not sure why I was getting this weird feeling, but one thing I've learned is, if you want to make it in this business, you have to learn to trust those times when something tells you things are off.
I figure my gut is telling me the car was spotted and I should stay away. Wonderful. A quick look around and I see a bus stop. I head over, checking my watch. 11:15. The sign says the bus arrives at 11:22. Seven long minutes. I pace back and forth, trying not to be too nervous, looking at the fish in the bag, hoping it can stand the wait. In my car, it'd be a five minute drive home. Waiting for the bus adds at least 15 to the mix. If this thing dies, I'll have to go through this all again, and this time, I won't have my car.
I step out into the street and peer down the long concrete ribbon, trying to spot the bus. I'm so anxious to be gone, worried more about the fish then my own surroundings that I don't notice that someone else has sauntered up to the bus stop.
At least, I don't notice until I step back on the curb and hear those fateful words "You're under arrest. Get down on your knees, put your hands on your head and cross your ankles." I look over my shoulder and see an undercover cop standing behind me. I see his partner standing off to my left, and now I spot the two guys in the unmarked car across the street.
I raise my hands above my head, still clutching the bag with Bob number 2 in it. "All right, officer, I'm going to cooperate. Can you do me a favor though? Can you call my wife? I got this fish for my little girl and if I don't get it home soon, it'll die, and that'll be the second one in two days. Can you help me out?"
Thankfully, the cop is a decent sort, with a kid of his own. He's probably made this run himself once or twice. In fact, he's kind enough to take me home so I can deliver the fish myself and be the hero. I explain to my little girl that I have to go off with my friend and that I'll see her later.
She's not too concerned, because she's paying attention to Bob II. I tell my wife to call our lawyer, and the cop waits until I'm back outside to cuff me.
"Thanks," I say. He says it's no problem. He has been there himself a couple times.
As I'm loaded in the back of the car, I look out at my little girl, sitting in the window playing with Bob II.
Stupid fish.
Here's the thing. I have a little girl, and I love her more than anything in the world. She is a daddy's girl and there is no question that she had me wrapped around her little finger from the first moment I set eyes on her. She was so beautiful. And the first time I felt those tiny fingers wrap around my index finger I was done. There was just no helping it. And of course, I don't regret a second of it.
My daughter just turned 4 about two months ago, and for her birthday the wife and I decided to get her a fish. A pretty little tetra. She named him Bob. Why? I have no idea. But Bob was her favorite thing in the world. Now, I should have known better than to get her a pet with such a short life span, but the fact of the matter is, we don't have the lifestyle that encourages longer-lived pets, like cats and dogs. Well, a cat we could probably deal with, but I'm deathly allergic.
The problem with dogs is this - they need to go outside fairly often. And when you're on the run from the law, the last thing you want to do is be out in public. So we needed an indoor pet and a fish seemed like just the thing.
That is until yesterday morning, when the Bob decided to go belly up.
Heartache.
My little girl in tears.
That is something I will not stand for, not when I can do something about it. So off I went to the nearest pet store to find a replacement for Bob. I finally found a parking spot a few blocks from the pet store and hustled on over. There was a bit of a line - apparently ours wasn't the only Bob to go belly up. Finally, the clerk fishes out a new tetra, I pay and off I go.
I get within two blocks of the car when I start getting the heebie-jeebies. Now, I'm not sure why I was getting this weird feeling, but one thing I've learned is, if you want to make it in this business, you have to learn to trust those times when something tells you things are off.
I figure my gut is telling me the car was spotted and I should stay away. Wonderful. A quick look around and I see a bus stop. I head over, checking my watch. 11:15. The sign says the bus arrives at 11:22. Seven long minutes. I pace back and forth, trying not to be too nervous, looking at the fish in the bag, hoping it can stand the wait. In my car, it'd be a five minute drive home. Waiting for the bus adds at least 15 to the mix. If this thing dies, I'll have to go through this all again, and this time, I won't have my car.
I step out into the street and peer down the long concrete ribbon, trying to spot the bus. I'm so anxious to be gone, worried more about the fish then my own surroundings that I don't notice that someone else has sauntered up to the bus stop.
At least, I don't notice until I step back on the curb and hear those fateful words "You're under arrest. Get down on your knees, put your hands on your head and cross your ankles." I look over my shoulder and see an undercover cop standing behind me. I see his partner standing off to my left, and now I spot the two guys in the unmarked car across the street.
I raise my hands above my head, still clutching the bag with Bob number 2 in it. "All right, officer, I'm going to cooperate. Can you do me a favor though? Can you call my wife? I got this fish for my little girl and if I don't get it home soon, it'll die, and that'll be the second one in two days. Can you help me out?"
Thankfully, the cop is a decent sort, with a kid of his own. He's probably made this run himself once or twice. In fact, he's kind enough to take me home so I can deliver the fish myself and be the hero. I explain to my little girl that I have to go off with my friend and that I'll see her later.
She's not too concerned, because she's paying attention to Bob II. I tell my wife to call our lawyer, and the cop waits until I'm back outside to cuff me.
"Thanks," I say. He says it's no problem. He has been there himself a couple times.
As I'm loaded in the back of the car, I look out at my little girl, sitting in the window playing with Bob II.
Stupid fish.
posted by Cool Cactus at 9:30 AM
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