A Hossman Rerun: The Flat Tire

When all great entertainment venues need a little more time to be creative, they hustle out a rerun. For those that haven't read this, it is a very requested and talked about early Hossman piece. I hope you enjoy

The Flat Tire

Today’s lesson is very, very important boys and girls, so please pay attention:Ahem—The world is a very mean, very vindictive and unholy shitty place sometimes with a magnificent sense for the challenge of “Well, atleast it can’t get any worse”.As with most days, I debated if it was actually worth getting out of bed this morning at 6:30am. My mind seems to convince itself that, fuck to all, we are going to not do anything anymore and stay right the crap here. It’s warm, it’s cozy, and maybe I’ll have another dream with sexy results. This goes on for about 10 minutes until Kahn, the uber tongue licking dog, decides to take action and give me a sponge bath thus interrupting any fantasy I had about going back to bed. Ok, up and running, my daughter packed off to the sitters and I’m my car doing my usual routine of “what the hell did I forget” game. It’s fun, it’s like playing the lotto when the only guy who wins the superlotto megamillions is actually worth more than what was won. Good times. Car keys? Check. Wedding ring? Panic for a second, ok good, check.. Tobacco in some form? Nope, gotta make a stop. That about does it, I’m good to go. I drive halfway down my street when I realize what I forgot, my wallet. I smoky and the bandit back to the house, open the garage door, dogs are going crazy even though I have been gone less than 5 minutes, retrieve the wallet, play the game again and take off. This would be the part in the movie when the audience is yelling “don’t do it, go home, go back to bed, don’t risk it.” I’m a risk taker baby. It’s overcast outside, figure it may rain a little later. That’s ok, “mellow day” I think and press on. I make it to my office a little before the crack ass of dawn before realizing that I need tobacco. Gotta have tobacco, my jobs really boring and the chicks love it. Turn around, go to the guy to get my tobacco. Mind you, this is the same guy that once asked me how to abuse his child without leaving any marks. Seriously. But hey, he gives me a good price.Back to the office where I step out and fate decides to give me a swift one to the back side. It’s raining pretty good now, so I’m getting wet. Greatness. As soon as I step out of my car, I hear “Whoosh”. No matter where you are, that is never something you like to hear. What could go “whoosh” when no one is around me. Well, the smart guy answer is “check your tire.” But hey, the brain likes to believe everything is ok. No no I say, it’s just the wind. No no, it has to be the rain. Maybe a baby dove just flew by for the first time. Yes, that is what it has to be! Then reality sets in as I actually see my front tire going flat. In the rain. On a Friday. I stick my hand to the tire AND ACTUALLY FEEL the air pumping out like a Asian massage therapist. Good Christ, are you kidding me! I would like to say that not a single profanity left my mouth. I would like to say that I took this in stride. However, a lie of that magnitude would most certainly keep me out of heaven and I would at least like to make a debate out of it.Ok, no big deal, got a flat on my 1998 Honda Civic POS. I’ll just use my cell phone and call for some help. Cell phone, cell phone, cell phone……..hmmmm, did I not play my remember game this morning? What I say now makes what I said before seem like a 5 year old talking gibberish. Yup, my phone is not with me but in some mysterious dimension that I put all my crap when I get home. Finally in the office, I have to interview people all day for jobs. That’s what I do for a living, give people jobs. Normally, it is a very happy thing to do. Unfortunately, I decide that then and there that no one is going to get a job today. My misery will spread to everyone. My last interview before lunch is supposed to be at 10:00 am. That should leave me plenty of time to go hitch a ride with someone for lunch, since I am currently sans transportation. It is a panel interview of 5 people, that I don’t really know. Around 11:30 is when I get pissed because all these “professionals” decide that now is the time they would like to show up instead of the appropriate fucking agreed fucking upon fucking time. I love the line “you don’t mind working through lunch do you”. What are you going to say? “Suck it shit head, of course I mind.” Nope, what comes out is “yea, ok, no problem. We finish about 1:00pm, about the time when everyone is coming back from lunch. I’m starving and trying to kick myself for not eating breakfast like momma told me. I can’t go anywhere, I have not cash other than the 23 cents I dug out of my car like a homeless guy looking for used cigarette butts that may have some left. Luckily, my office is trashed. Today is Jan 12, which means that xmas was only 3 weeks ago, which means that somewhere I have stashed assorted candy canes, fudge or other office gifts that I originally didn’t think enough about to take home. What was once crappy homemade turd fudge now becomes life sustaining food, glorious glorious food. I eat it without the slightest bit of guilt. I have three more interviews to complete, then I figure I will go out in the rain and change my tire and go the hell home looking like shit but still being victorious. I complete this and go out to the car. Pop the truck, look for the tire. Ah, there it is. The glorious donut tire. You know the type, it’s the midget of tires. It is the Umpa Lumpa’s of tires. It’s that sad little retarded tire that other tires don’t look directly at. It looks about a sturdy as my grandma’s replaced hip. Ok, got the tire, where the hell is the jack. Hmmmmm, it should be in the trunk. Hmmmm, it should be right here. Hmmmmmm……SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. This is the part that I mention that my very loving wife decided to give me a treat and clean out my car, including everything that was in the trunk. Including my golf bag, that 2002 window flier, that one shoe that doesn’t have a mate, and my jack. Vein hurting in my head, blood boiling, vision getting blurry. So very very mad.Back up to the office I go to see if anyone is still here. I work for a government agency. It is Friday. Monday is a random holiday. Anyone want to take a guess at what the odds are that someone is still here at 3:00pm? It’s like a town that the gold done run dry. People’s social security numbers combine and role through the halls like tumbleweeds. Birds have made nests in the filing cabinets that never get used. I go to the one person that might still be here. As I work for a social government agency, which is another way to say that we have an 89% female work force, the odds of one having a jack or know where it is in their car is not good anyway. But fortune smiles on me. One other person is here and she does have a car. I have known her a grand total of 2 days. Perfect to ask a favor. It will probably mean some sexual harassment lawsuit, but fuck it, I’m getting desperate. To my amazement, she gives me her keys and I NOW HAVE A JACK! Back to my car, in the rain. I hear now that the rain will soon turn to sleet and my destruction. The jack that I have matches the tire in my truck, the retard jack. This thing wouldn’t pick up my dinner salad that I wish I had to eat. But ever the boy scout, I try anyway. By sure good luck, the bad tire is parked directly in puddle about 2 inches deep. This is when I notice that my car is so close to the ground that I may not be able to do this. No sense on looking pretty now, I lay on my stomach in the puddle to position the jack. At this point is when I realize that I should call it quits, but screw it, I’m already wet and my pride ain’t going down today! As I position the jack, I then also realize that I can’t get that crappy gimp handle in there to push it up. After about 30 minutes of this, I give up. I cuss God, fate, whoever the hell is around and give the hell up. I walk back to my office looking like a wet yeti, complete with stink. I break down even further and call a tow truck who has the fabulous news that they may not get out here until about 7:00pm or so. I realize that this is going to cost me about 200 dollars or so. For a freaking flat tire. I drip road sewage with each step I take down deserted hallway, expecting with each step to have a some elected official come screaming at me from behind a corner calling me inefficient and that I am going to be investigated. Let’s see if I can get indicted today, then it would be perfect. Everything else terrible has occurred, might as well be that.It’s now dark out, quite cold. I have eaten my last smushed Hershey’s kiss which was quite warm despite being in the back of my desk drawer for t he last two months. It was a delicious supper, no complaints. I have taken off my pants and hung them over my office vent. If someone sees me in my wet skivvies then they can have at it. I finally got a hold of my brother in law to come get me until the tow arrives. My shirt clings to me like I’m some 19 year old girls gone wild video. I’m headlightling like no ones business but I don’t care. So very cold, the state likes to keep the AC on in the winter, just to waste your money. Later, I’m going to try and make prank phone calls to orphans, maybe that will cheer me up.Next time my mind says to stay in bed, I’m going to punt the dog and not move another fucking muscle.