Musings - July 13, 2011

“Hold on. I have to blow into my breathalyzer.” Radcliffe heard a low, vibrating hiss cascade out of the other end of the phone.

“Why do you have to do that? I thought you were already driving.”

“What?”

“You were already driving, right? Or did you pull into a Sonic on your massive fucking commute?”

“I have to blow into it every 30 minutes to make sure I don’t have a drink while I’m driving.”

Brilliant.

“I have some good news! I’m officially done with my court stuff today,” Heath announced.

“How’s that?”

“I turned in my community service paperwork today. I’ve paid my fines and I’m on my way!”

“What community service did you have to do?” he asked with intrigue.

“Now I just got one month of this breathalyzer and I’m fr–”

“But what community service did you have to do?”

“I was supposed to be working on cleaning up Venice Beach from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. for two weeks.”

Radcliffe saw where this was going. “You actually did that? What was it like?”

“I didn’t actually do it. I paid a guy $800, and this guy signed all my paperwork.”

He thought to himself, Why the hell would a court clerk accept some random-ass idiot’s signature on this stuff? “Explain to me how this works.”

“I found someone that was in a position to sign my paperwork. I needed his signature and he needed the money. Win-win.”

“Interesting.”

Heath tried to climb on his garrison, but he had pretty much left the gate open as he pulled out with his Brown Bag Special. “I don’t fucking have time for that. I can make more money waiting tables at L’Idiot for two weeks than it cost to buy him off. It was a business decision.”

“Fair enough.”

“All right, well, I’m almost at work,” Heath let out with relief. “I have to let you go, brother. What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m writing a speech on volunteerism.”

“Fuck me.”