Monday, December 13, 2004

Life of Pie

First, I was worried about burglars. Then I get a call from LaPresidente, telling me that she was mugged.

But this is not a tale of woe. This is a tale of arse-kicking and pie.

Actually, this whole thing started without LaPresidente's involvement. I was talking to Julio Friday evening after my Evidence exam. In the course of the conversation, I announced that I wanted a chocolate-chip cookie and a chocolate ice cream cone, neither of which I had in the house. Casting around for a viable option, I considered cheesecake, raw cookie dough (any flavor acceptable, barring those causing anaphylactic shock upon ingestion), and then settled on pie. Blackberry pie. Or possibly Concord Grape pie. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost sight of the viability part of the whole thing, and I was too lazy after the stress of the exam to bother going out to the store.

Saturday, I decided to give in, since I had to go to Tarjhay to pick up pictures anyway and I needed a break from my Conflicts of Law exam. But before I got around to it, I called LaPresidente for a chat. Now, LaPresidente has a Very Special Relationship with pie. So, of course, I shared my pie fantasy with her. The response was "Do you hear that sound? That's me putting on my pants right now to go buy pie. Do you hear that? That's the front door to my apartment closing."

I went to Tarjhay (where I did not get my pictures, which is a rant for another day), then to the grocery, where I bought lots of junk food and a large frozen blackberry pie (nothing was available in the fresh bakery). All of this took the better part of two hours, 45 minutes of which were spent waiting for the mentally retarded cashier to finish checking the one customer in front of me out. The kid was trying really hard, but he was really struggling. The only reason why I didn't change lines was that I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and it wasn't like I had anywhere pressing to be, so...

I get home and the light on my machine is blinking, which surprises me, as I'd already talked to Julio and Finbar and everyone else knew not to call me this weekend. It's LaPresidente, and the message mysteriously says "Call me so I can tell you about something that happened at Horribly Overpriced Chain Store."

It turns out that she was mugged at the very ghetto filiale of the HOCS that is close to her apartment. This HOCS is so ghetto that they have rent-a-cops 24-7. It's so ghetto that I personally would go out of my way to never shop there. This sets me apart from many of my classmates-- LaPresidente is not the first eprson I've heard of getting mugged around there. The rent-a-cops, as this story will illustrate, are largely for show.

She first noticed the very large "gentleman" as she was paying for her purchases. He was trying to read her PIN number, which she promptly blocked with her body. She walked out to the parking lot and put the pie on the passenger seat of the car, then started to walk around to the driver's side. That's when she noticed the self-same "gentleman" coming toward her. He demanded money.

Now, the script, the advice fron Those In The Know, and common sense says to just give the guy the money. But no... not LaPresidente. She told him "no". He persisted, advancing on her. She told him to get away from her before she hit him. Now, let me just tell you a little about LaPresidente. She's beautiful. She has lovely curly hair and beautiful eyes. Her make-up is always impeccable and her clothes are to die for-- even when she's wearing a "Georgetown Law" sweatshirt and PJ pants. I'm sure this "gentleman" was snorting with laughter inside at her threat. So he did what any thug worth his salt would do, and advanced further.

LaPresidente said *"You picked the wrong [rhymes with itch] to [rhymes with duck] with" and hauled off and punched the [rhymes with other lucker] right in the eye. He vamoosed.

That's when the rent-a-cop decided he might want to get involved. He wandered over, asking if he should call the police. LaPresidente says "Get out of my way. I'm going home to eat my pie."



* message edited for those reading at work

1 Comments:

At 11:38 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Grape pie? I've never heard of such a thing...and I grew up in the "Raisin Capital of the World"*.

Great story, though. I know never to get in the way of LaPresidente and dessert...

Luneray

(which became the "Sin Capital of the World" after some of the lights on the highway billboard burned out)

 

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