A Whole New Level

Another Level??
Last Sunday my friend Scott asked me if I had gone back to look into the hole in the wall behind the white truck in the company parking garage, something I’d completely forgotten about in the months since I first mentioned it here. It’s normally easy to forget about that hole because I don’t usually park near that old truck anyway. On Friday evening I stayed a little late to catch up on work before heading over to the Boswell Gallery for the reception to their nudes show. As I was headed toward the car I glanced down the garage and noticed that my car and the old white truck were the only vehicles on the bottom level and recalling Scott’s question I decided to take a peek into the hole. You won’t believe what I saw!!
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The Missing Wall

This is really kind of weird. Today it seemed like everybody in the building came to work. I had a hard time finding a place to park and ended up parking right next to (you guessed it) the old white pickup down in the dark corner of the garage. I completely forgot about checking out the burned out light on the way up to the elevators, but I sure as heck remembered it as I walked back down the slope toward the dark, dead-end corner at the bottom of the lowest level of the parking garage. By 6pm the lower level is almost always empty and it was just me and that stupid white truck. I whistled loudly and fumbled with my phone trying to think of somebody to call because the bogeyman never gets you when you’re talking to someone, right?
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Poodle’s Holy Biscuit

Well I’m happy to say that I remembered to mention the burned out light down in the garage to Jose, but only because he happened to be in our office talking to my friend Daniel when I got there this morning. Daniel had been showing Jose a picture of me holding a bikini-clad stand-in from ‘Savannah’ in my arms and they were both full of wise-ass comments in Spanish since they’re both natives of Mexico.
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Secret World

I was actually on time for work this morning so I stopped at Starbucks to get a muffin and a $3 coffee. The two people in front of me ordered Caffe Americanos so I ordered the same thing. Until this morning I wouldn’t have known a Caffe Americano if it (or a pink snow bunny for that matter) had walked up and bitten me on the ass. Armed with my “investment” coffee and moist fingerfulls of cranberry/orange muffin, I drifted into the parking garage well and truly late. I love having an underground parking deck when there’s bad weather outside, cave instinct I suppose.
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