Apr 09 2008
Firepower Peddlepower
On January IX the year of our lord MMVIII, I called the police on myself and had my Walther .CCCLXXX PPK taken from me. I bought the gun at X-VIII Tactical Gear & Supply on the VIII. At that point I had been lacking sleep for about a I.V weeks and started getting the heebee jeebee’s. I’ve been calling the force every month since, trying to get my stainless steel gun back. It seems I want it more now that they’re holding it. Was this whole incident a sign I made to myself? Statistically I’m probally safer with a sling shot.
The dream this morning:
I road my carbon (color black) fiber bike to the evidence/property police room in a relatively undevastated part of the New Orleans. I locked my bike outside to a parked car in the neighboring lot, or did I lock it to a fence? I don’t know, but I did lock it to something stationary. I walked inside the property room and asked them for my gun. They seemed reluctant to give it to me, but because I am not a criminal nor have I been declared crazy, they were forced to give it back.
I looked at my lovely first hand gun. (I had it blessed by an Eastern Orthodox priest the day before (not part of dream)). It was covered in granulated powder residue. It looked like the cops had been having fun with my pistol, rapping it’s virginity, steeling precious bangs from it’s life. I immediately wanted to brake it down and clean it, purify the filth that the officers left on my baby. I took it apart with ease for it was so covered with lube it almost fell into pieces itself. Then I tried to reassemble it. I couldn’t get the slide on, the spring flung away and the barrel was missing. The police looked at me with suspicion . After a few hours they were getting ready to go home and asked me to leave. I finally got the gun assembled and put it in it’s black plastic case.
When I got outside my bike was stolen. I interrogated the neighbors but they had no answers. The feeling of lose was tremendous. My carbon fiber Trek XCVIII (empty-set) (empty-set) has been an extension of myself for the majority of my adult life. And I lost it dealing with the police. Or was It myself?
that part about the gun going to pieces in your hands reminds me of dreams people have in which all their teeth fall inexplicably out of their mouths.
lately i had a feeling u weren’t getting sufficient rest, and wondered if perhaps your perceptual gateways had been made too wide by sleep deprivation.
glad you didn’t lose the bike. a man and his trusted bike make a sort of latter-day centaur, guided by sight and steered by solar plexus.
I remember your raving about them but I didn’t know you owned a PPKKK.
I didn’t know you wore pink, either.
Forget the minivan. Do cross country on your bicycle.
And to quote one of my favorite lines from an epic of a movie:
Francis: Remember the first time I saw your bike? You were riding past my house and I came running out to tell you how much I liked it even way back then?!
Pee-wee: I love that story.