Fuck Those Fuckin
Motherfucking Fucker Fucks.

This story takes place June 12th , 2003. The events are true and completely suck.

     For about a week or so, I’ve noticed that the interior of my car has been getting cluttered and messy. The floorboards were gathering too much dirt, but I had just washed my car and didn’t have enough change for the fancy vacuums. I’m too lazy to clean it up without motivation, but thankfully fate decided to intervene and teach me a lesson.

     Last night I was forced to work late so I could pad the corners of my boss’ desk with foam. She keeps hitting her knee when she stands up, and needs some protection against herself. I’m serious. So I got out of work around 9 pm blasting satan-loving death metal to cleanse my anger. (Microsoft Word recommends I capitalize Satan. Finally I see why Bill Gates is so God damn successful.) When I reached my apartment I was calm, everything in perspective once I realized someone was out there making this rotten music, and it wasn’t me. Then I remembered something. I live in a shitty apartment complex. The tricky thing about having a shitty apartment complex is that they oversell the parking in their gated community. If you leave work too late, you take one in the chute and must park elsewhere despite paying the parking fee. No big deal, I’ll just park in front of the apartment on the street. Besides, it’s closer to Subway. So I grabbed some food, Jared Fogel-style, and went to my room. I had a pleasant evening watching television and ruling the online community. Then twelve o clock hit, and it was Friday the 13th. I didn’t think much of it at the time because superstitions are for chumps, but looking back…I really should have caught a little bit of the Friday the 13th marathon. Damn. Anyway…

      The next morning I woke up to some static radio and couldn’t wait to get in my car and rock out on the way to work. I made my way downstairs to the parking lot, but couldn’t find my car. Then I remembered that I had to spend the previous night safeguarding a grown woman’s desk, forcing me to park in the street. I walked out to my car and turned off the alarm. Normally the alarm beeps twice when everything is normal. It beeped 4 times. Uh oh. Before I could get to my car, I noticed a sea of shiny bits on the ground. I followed them up to the window of my car, and realized those shiny bits WERE the window of my car. Uh oh. I ran up to the car, the window shattered, glass all over the passenger seat….And the stereo missing. Gone. Fucking stolen. All I could let out was one word. FUCK! And everyone knows that a loud fuck from Steve can mean only one thing…Invasion. I ran inside to find the number for the cops, but ended up just calling 911 instead. My roommate followed me out as I waited for a response from 911. It took 5 minutes. By the time I got them on the line, they simply transferred me to LAPD. Another 5 minutes later I got someone on the line from LAPD, but apparently I’m out of their jurisdiction. Too busy to actually transfer me, they forced me to reach into my passenger side and grab a piece of paper under the pieces of glass so I could write down the number to North Hollywood Police. And you know what happened? I sliced my finger open and had to wait another 5 minutes. I was waiting so long that I had a better chance of standing in the street and flagging down a cop that happened by. Oddly enough, that’s exactly what happened. Once the cops showed up, my roommate ran back to the apartment so he wouldn’t be late for work. The cops pulled over, and I said, “Someone broke into my car, broke my window, stole my radio!” They sat there, looked down the street, and said, “Um, is that him there?” They pointed at my roommate. Wow. I’ve got top brass on this case. I said, “No! If that was him I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you!” Finally, the cops got out of their car and asked for my license and registration. The one woman cop looked over the other’s shoulder at my license and said, “Are you just here visiting?” I said, ‘No I’ve been here several months now,’ to which she replied, “Well, you really should have your Ohio license changed to California. You know, you really need to change that after 10 days of living in California. It’s like you don’t even have a license.” I stared at this asshole shaking my head. What the fuck are you doing here?!? Maybe she didn’t see that my window was lying all over the sidewalk. Maybe she didn’t notice that merchandise was just plucked from my car. Or maybe she was just trying to exert her authority, making up for the years of torture she endured in high school. Yeah, that’s probably it. Congratulations honey, you busted me. Case solved. I understand my car being jacked is low on the priority list, but you can at least focus on the task at hand. This bitch wouldn’t let it go though. In the 20 minutes it took to fill out the report, this lady came up to me 4 times, stressing the importance of me getting a license. “You know, if you get pulled over, you can get your car impounded. Just thought you might want to know.” I actually thought I was getting a ticket for someone else breaking into my car.In the end, all the cops could do is stare at me, shrug, and say, "It sucks. We know." Jesus.

      So what good came out of this? Well, it did force me to take my car to get the window fixed, and in the process they had to vacuum the interior. Finally my floor is spotless! And I learned that the police force is incompetent. But the greatest satisfaction is that those dickless thieves will be sorely disappointed with the product they took from me. The reason they were able to steal it in the first place is that the removable face was disabled by the car company when I bought it. If they took it for their own listening pleasure, this increases the chances of it getting stolen again, which pleases me. If they try to sell it to a pawn shop, they’ll lose money once the shop keep sees it’s a permanent face. Yes! Oh, and by the way, I’ve used it so much that it no longer ejects cleanly. I hope it eats your only homemade demo CD that was supposed to be your ticket off the streets. Take that, motherfuckers! And take this with you too!

 


Fuck those motherfucking fucker fucks.

 

If you have any information regarding hearing a loud fuck in the Los Angeles area, email guerrs@thedeckingcrew.com

 

Epilogue
     
      The night after this happened, I was working out with my headphones on when a deaf man walked into the workout room. He sat down next to me and started working out. I immediately took off my headphones because I felt a little awkward enjoying music in his company. We talked for a little bit. I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but knew that he was out of shape. I felt a little like Ghost Dog except, you know, without the lazy eye… It really put things into perspective for me though. I mean, sure I won’t be able to listen to music in the car, but this guy will never be able to listen to music. Ever. I couldn’t imagine the feeling of never-ending silence and I certainly won’t forget that moment.

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