Home Alone, Part VII...

... ok, children... settle down back there... the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated... the truth is, I just got out of the slammer this morning... unlike Tennessee's catch 'n release policy, Illinois has a Draconian 96 hour drunk-tank law... basically, that means that when a feisty copper gets his hands on your drunk ass, he locks you up in a pastel colored cell for the better part of a week... damn sadistic Yankees..

.. anyway, I am sure that you gentle readers have just been on pins and needles waiting to hear more about ole Wang.. Hell, Lord knows I have been wanting to tell you, but they wouldn't allow me access to a computer until they had verified my identity via Interpol...

... ahhh.. where to start?... firstly, let me just say that Wang is a helluva guy... I know what you are thinking, but looks can be deceiving... in my book, anyone who brings me White Castle and Scotch for breakfast is a stand-up guy... Hell, he didn't even want to join me for breakfast - the burgers and Scotch were ALL mine... that, ladies and gentlemen, is a trooper...

.. after I had scarfed down three burgers, Wang started gabbing 100 miles an hour... (see what I mean?.. what a helluva guy.. not interrupting a man's breakfast is one of the cardinal rules of politeness..)..

... in a frenzy, he began... "Where T1G at?... T1G my good, good friend... I need help in hurry.. you like burgers?.. I get you more burgers if you want"...

... "whoa there... calm down, little fella", I said as I took a slug of Scotch... "yeah, Wang... the burgers rocked... but I've had enough... so, what's up?... maybe I can help you"...

... "I need to get out town QUICK!.. police find me, I be big trouble!".. the poor guy... he was nearly in tears...

... but still, at this point, I began to re-think my newly found friendship with Wang...

... "hang on, Wang... you've got the cops looking for you?... what have you done, lil buddy?... Hellfire, you don't look like you'd hurt a fly"...

... "oh, Mr. Eric.. I have confession".. he bowed his head, and continued ..."I smuggler... I know it bad... but once upon a time, I was houseboy to S & M freak... I rather be smuggler... I have dignity in smuggle.... and people pay good price for my goods... oh, Mr. Eric, but I have to get stuff to fence by this afternoon.. if not, then he send big, scary Goons to break my knees... but truck broke down in downtown Stillman Valley.. I not know how to fix it."...

... sweet Lord, people... I was floored.. visions of thugs breaking down the door any minute started flashing through my mind.. I mean, the last thing you expect when you volunteer to house-sit for someone is to become embroiled in a suburban Illinois gangland smuggling ring... who knew that the Stillman Valley was such a hotbed of sin, vice, and intrigue?...

... steadying myself, I looked directly into Wang's tearful eyes..

... "ok, Wang.. spill it... I am willing to help you fix your truck- since you are a friend of T1G's - but I have to know what I am letting myself in for... come clean, little man... what do you smuggle?... drugs? white slaves? teenaged Korean hookers? what?.. if I am going to help, I have to know..."

... well, people.. Wang started to cry... blubbing all over T1G's kitchen table like a little girl... it was horrible, but I persisted... finally, Wang's wailing began to subside, and he started to speak...

... "I smuggle other stuff, Mr. Eric... I am so ashamed... I smuggle..".. Wang stopped for a moment, as if steadying his courage... "I smuggle loads of illegally imported wicker lawn furniture from California to Stillman Valley... I deliver them to Big Daddy McFangus, of McFangus Home Furnishings... he the head of the Stillman Valley's Lawn Furniture Cartel...

... TO BE CONTINUED....

Posted by That 1 Guy at March 22, 2005 01:34 PM | TrackBack