so, upon skipping out of work an hour-point-twofive early [and requesting the missed hour.25 as "paid personal hour"], i exited wedge and walked to the employee parkinglot per usual. I needed the extra time to pack and shower and pack more in order to get on the road for the lake prior to terrible rushhour congestion at 694/94 merge[nce]. a man shouted from the sidewalk. i was seated in my car, key in ignition, smoke lit, about to shut door....

internal monologue shall be written within those snazzy brackets that i adore so well&much: "[ ] "

"hold up, hold up!" says man.

[oh great. here goes another cigarette and buck.]

"can i ask you a favour? i don't want your money."

[well this is a new approach!]

"can you give me a lift to the amoco over there? my car broke down. I'll pay you for your time."

[i'd rather you ask for money and cigarette.] "sure." [god, i'm too fucking nice. good karma, good karma, good karma.]

... so i drive him to the amoco. i make up stuff... "i'm not from here. i don't really know minneapolis. my name is jonas. [i'm carrying the wheel. hmmm, is that even right?]... blah blah blah...

ok, scott (his name is scott) tells me his predicament... the finer points:

1. his car was hit from behind.

2. he fled the accident cos some the other car was calling the police.

3. his car/truck is filled with lights that he must deliver today.

4. these lights are special. they are used to grow plants. he "won't get into specifics."

5. he needs 133 dollars in order to get a towtruck and make up the difference between whatever he's carrying and what he owes.

6. if i have 33 dollars, i'll get that plus 100 dollars if i continue to help him.

[fuck. i'm tooooo nice. i don't want the money. but he seems to be in a fix.]

at the third convenience store/gas station i stop him at... i begin to wonder if, perhaps, he is robbing these places and using me as getaway car.

finally, we are to stop at the wedge. he wants me to wait in front of the door. being a wedge employee... i know i cannot do this... block all sorts of traffic... so i park. he says he'll be five minutes.

approaching 10 minutes.. .his cigarette is burning away in the ashtray. momma didn't raise no fool... that is pot jammed into a marlboro menthol light 100. i throw it out the window... don't like the smell. don't want to be no hippie.

[shit! i just threw his joint out. smelled expensive. shit! he's gonna be pissed.]

so i flip out in panicked-mattson manner and leave the parkinglot and drive home. to type this.

upon re-reading... not nearly as good as actual events. words have somewhat failed.