A guy has taken over a bank armed with
a stick with poo on the end of it. No gun. No knife. Just a poo
stick. This is how my week was starting. This is stupid and I'm not
sure why the police even called me. But here I am. 9 in the morning
and standing in the entrance of a bank watching this guy, obviously
homeless, waving a stick in the air. He looks at me and there isn't a
hint of recognition in his face which means he is like crazy because
everyone knows who I am.
Johnny Panic.
He comes barreling at me and I sonic
shout at him when he's a few feet from me. The stick falls to the
ground a second after he does clutching his head and screaming. I
turn around and the police come storming in. News cameras are waiting
outside and I am just not in the mood. Or as Zazz used to say when we
were kids and he didn't have the words to describe it “The Angers.”
Last week my mother had to get surgery.
I took her to China because they are all about them stem cells and
while she is recovering I've been super bummed out. Ronica has been
good at cheering me up and was in the process of cheering me up with
her mouth when I got the call to deal with this. The police captain
doesn't even thank me. He nods and keeps on walking towards the guy
on the ground while some officers put gloves on.
