Line Cutter

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Washington’s Department of Licensing to get my driver’s license here. The DOL is jam-packed on Saturdays, so I arrived early to get a good spot in line. There were several people already in line ahead of me, so I joined the end of the line and settled in to wait.

The DOL is in a shopping center, so it has two sets of doors. The first set is like a grocery store, and slides open as long as there’s enough weight to trigger the automatic doors. The inner door has to be pushed open, and before business hours it’s locked. So people waiting for the office to open crowd into the space between the sliding doors and the locked door.

A large woman strode in, trailed by a tall, skinny teenage boy. She took cuts in line (which, to me, means death) and stood with her face practically shoved up against the locked door. I super hate people who cut in line, but I was on my best behavior and I didn’t say a word (although there was a time in my life when  I would have threatened to kick her until she died if she didn’t get her ass to the back of the line).

Not too far behind Line Cutter, a man with his young son came in. “This the end of the line?” the guy asked, gesturing toward me.

“There is no line, really. We’re all just standing around,” Line Cutter replied.

“Yeah….yeah, there really is a line,” muttered the girl in front of me. We shared a sigh followed by a sad snicker, as the man realized he’d better not push his way to the front too and instead chose to hang out by the first door.

His little boy quickly caught the attention of Line Cutter, who carried on a lively conversation with the child while we all listened. The kid was pretty cute and talkative. He showed Line Cutter the cowboy boots he was wearing and told her that he rode there in his parents’ van. “My son is going to get a van,” Line Cutter told the little boy. “After he gets his license today.”

The little boy didn’t care and continued to carry on mindless chit chat with Line Cutter, as she watched her son. I watched him, too. He was trying his best to look like he didn’t know her. “You’re such a talkative little guy,” Line Cutter said to the little boy. “My son used to be talkative too, until he became a sulky teenager.” She looked up at her son. “You don’t talk anymore, now that you’re a teenager,” she practically shouted at him.

Dude, he’s only putting up with this shit cuz she’s getting him a car, I thought. If Line Cutter was found dead, I’d figure her son was behind the crime and not blame him one little bit.

Of course, if she’s as fucking annoying in every social setting as she was at the Department of Licensing, there might be quite a few people who want her dead.

A TV Possessed

Scene: My living room. I am on the couch, watching Keith Olbermann and, uh, working very hard on important projects (read: updating my Facebook status). Paul is in the kitchen, making dinner.

All of a sudden, Keith stops talking and silence fills the room. I glance up from the computer screen. In place of my beloved “Countdown” show is a Dish Network popup, asking me to rent “Zombieland” for $6.99. Since I have absolutely no techical expertise whatsoever, I do the only thing there really is to be done, and yell for Paul to fix it. He does, and I am back to my news and once again happy. I don’t know why “Zombieland” decided to interrupt my programming, but I chalk it up to a system glich and shrug it off.

That is, until the tv began rapidly changing channels.

By itself.

Paul is next to me now, and we’re munching homemade pizza and chasing “Countdown” with Rachel Maddow’s interview with a sheriff from Arizona. The show suddenly stops, and the tv scrolls methodically through the available channels.

I look at Paul. He looks back at me. I’m totally confused. “Is it broken?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. I continue watching the tv freak out. “It’s possessed,” I finally diagnose. Damn zombies and their land. They must have had something to do with this. How, I wonder, does one go about killing a zombie? A stake through the heart? No, wait, that’s vampires. Throw water on them? Nah, that’s the Wicked Witch. Hmmm, how to kill a zombie? Perhaps….

“GET OFF THE REMOTE!” Paul exclaims.

While I was off in la la land, Paul has gotten up and discovered Oliver sitting on the tv stand, and it turns out, also on the tv remote. At Paul’s command he lazily jumps down, and the tv stops scrolling.

Well, it could have been zombies.