“Fuck it.” I thought to myself. “It’s for K.”
Luckily, there was grass outside the window, so I didn’t hurt myself too bad when I jumped out. I ran through the parking lot, looking for my target, when I saw my next obstacle.
Derek Gaffee, a friend of mine from years back who became a Spliff member shortly after he discovered pot, was washing Trish’s car… without a shirt on, and wearing a skirt.
“Derek!” I shouted, surprised and more than a little agitated to see him there.
He saw me and sighed. “I’ve wronged the K Group and for that I was wrong. Now I’m washing Trish’s car and singing this song. Let everyone beware, I’m not wearing underwear. I don’t mean to be crass, but please - spank my ass.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone in one of these unusual predictaments. In hindsight, it’s amazing how many of these were actually carried out. I suppose it was how well the K’s managed to stay on top of gossip that if anyone were to shirk their responsibilities, it would probably come back to haunt them. But this wasn’t my issue now. My issue now was to get Derek the fuck away from that car. If I didn’t get into that back seat, unseen, my chances were surely fucked. |