Chapter 15

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we woke up late, slaphappy from 5 hrs sleep and a heavy work week. our luck, we were both off every Sunday. and wed brunch or otherwise kill the day. it was 1pm before we saw daylight. Brian got outside ahead of me and gasped.

“the car doors open!”

i caught up. my door, the passengers side of Brians PT cruiser, was all the way ajar. upon a closer look i cld see scratch marks, from a clothes hanger, presumably. a wrinkle in the metal doorframe. how they must have got the lock up. the glove box hung agape as our mouths.

we dug around, nothing appeared took.

“fuck, the car might not start,” i stated the obvious.

Brian went around to the drivers side.

“it will,” he predicted.

we both got in, and that was when we saw the fuse box, or im not sure what it was, but this little box id never noticed, below the wheel, just hanging wide open that i would assume held fuses..a mess of protruding wire.

“whats that?” i indicated the box to Brian.

“they were going to try to steal the car, i guess.”

he turned the key, it started.

“i feel violated.”

“yeah,” Brian sounded nonplussed.

we had a better than average Sunday on the town.

the next day i realized we should have called the police. they could have dusted for fingerprints. maybe whomever had attempted to steal our car had stolen other cars. perhaps this thief had been a wanted criminal.

but, i reasoned, the cops would have seen the mess inside. light jackets sprawled in the backseat, leftover from spring. (or maybe even last autumn!) to-go boxes in assortment containing what a mad scientist could not identify. countless empty packets of cigarettes, remnants of lattes and toddies shoved into vestibules. sullied newspapers, four or five ugly pairs of abandoned-at-the-bar sunglasses, a broken watch, and cat hair, and even a cola-stained stuck-together wad of dollar bills.

if we called the police we would have had to clean.

so i threw out the idea. my vanity, my laziness in general had won out over my pursuit of justice for mankind.

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