Chapter Two: Brownies

 Chapter Two:

It has now been six and a half days since I gave my jacket to my ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend.  I still can’t figure out why I decided to get naked on Valencia street at 1:30 in the AM; I guess I just felt tainted. But the fog has been rolling in like a fat lady on roller skates and my Whole Foods hoodie just isn’t cutting the cake.  I want my fucking jacket back!  I decide to let the wisdom of my friend Jack Daniels dictate my future actions.  Isn’t being young and dumb so much fun?

            Ten shots, six cigarettes, and two hours later I have come up with the most awesome idea ever.  I get my jacket back and I also get to screw with that lanky hipster who is currently fucking my X and more importantly (not in the slightest bit sure why) sleeping in my bed.  How did she end up with the bed and the apartment? I let her keep the cat though; thing makes the inside of my nose itch.  Pussy.  

            Long johns, tight T, old cashmere sweater, hipster sweatshirt, Whole Foods hoodie, and a black Giants hat; I’m out the door.  I giggle at my neighbor and her white poodle; she glares at me.  I trip and almost fall.  Shit.  I’m on the street now.  Brownies hardware store is just up the block on Polk Street.  I throw a drunken wave at my favorite bum and his gay bum lover. Jesus.

            When I get to Brownies, I wander around the lighting section for a few minutes. Loitering.  A man in his 50’s asks me if I need help. No.  I’m heading down stairs now (in cities these stores have multi levels) I spot a young kid. He sports a Giants cap and has horrible acne. 

“Nice hat dude,” I say as I lean against a shelf of garden hoses, tilting my head so he can see our similar taste in baseball teams.  This is completely ridiculous because everyone loves the fucking Giants in this town. “I was hoping you could help me find something, it is somewhat of a delicate manner,” I wonder if he has any idea what I’m talking about, I wonder if I do either.  He nods his head.  I take that as a yes and continue.  “I need something that you use to pry open a door or maybe a lock with?” Gulp.   Too obvious?  He smiles and gestures to a wall filled with multicolored bars.  “I guess your best bet would be a crow bar, what are you using it for?”  I decide to throw caution to the wind.  “I need something to break into my ex-girlfriends apartment.”

He laughs and hands me a bright orange crow bar about two feet long, “this will get you through most doors as long as its wood.”  Burp.  Really? I decide not to push my luck, “thanks dude.”   I turn and half run, half leap up the stairs, trip. Fall. Ouch.  I hear him laughing.

On the street now, crow bar wrapped in a brown plastic bag. Brownies.  I love that place.  I focus on getting back up my steps and into bed. Tomorrow I’m going James Bond on this bitch’s ass.  Oorah!