Story 141: Master of Inconvenience

            I love putting people out; it makes my day.  If I haven’t annoyed at least one person every 24 hours, then I’ve failed at life somewhere.

            Whenever I drive on major roads, I make sure to be at least five miles under the speed limit; 10 if it’s multi-lane.  I stay in the right-hand lane for that though, since I don’t have a death wish.

            On supermarket checkout lines, I always pay by cash and by credit, and sometimes even by check where I also have to write in my address, if the mood strikes me.  I also go over the limit by three items on the express lines, but I don’t pull that one too often because the same people work those registers all the time and have been known to make a scene.

            My favorite is summertime, and the towns that have the good old-fashioned drawbridges on highways.  I like to book them early and often, take out the ol’ rented boat, and just sail it back and forth under the bridge every half-hour, on the half-hour.  The lines of cars sitting there, helplessly trapped in their noxious fumes, sweat, depleting gas tanks, and dying batteries (why only a few shut off their cars for the 10-minute wait, I will never understand; the fresh air is much better than the struggling air conditioning any day) make all the rotten vegetables thrown, birds flipped, and curses flung in my direction worthwhile.  Sigh.

            When I’m at home, I make sure that my stereo is turned up to the max with my windows wide open, so all can enjoy the same wonderful music I do (not really: I listen to tracks of weird sound effects).  I also have phone conversations outdoors where I laugh a lot and/or have lots of drama, so my unwilling listeners can fill in the blanks.  None of my neighbors have complained to my face though, probably because long ago I placed a fake dead chicken over my doorway and they’re afraid they’ll be next.  The cops found out that it was fake but no one else is too sure that I don’t switch out a real one from time to time: always keep `em guessing.

            Come winter, I never shovel my driveway; why should I, when our planet’s own personal star causes the same effect with much less effort?  A side benefit is that no one can park in front of my house either, which is too darn bad for certain people who have 20 cars when all they need are three, tops – it’s the one time of year when I have an unobstructed view of the boring street.  Of course, if I’m feeling up to it, I actually will shovel my driveway… out onto said street, because why should my grass suffer further suffocation just because people need to get some place?  Surely the plow will come by again.  If not, then sue your car’s manufacturer for not living up to its all-terrain vehicle claim, what can I tell you.

            I think tomorrow I’ll come into work late, leave early, and dump my cafeteria garbage into the bin clearly marked for trays only.  People need me to keep them busy in this life or they’ll just waste away, trust me.