True Story©… The Big (little) Getback


 

     Y’know?  Sometimes I have the toughest of times getting out of my own damned way.  I should say, I guess, that my own way finds a way of staying in front of me.  Every time I think I have dispatched of a former situation, something directly related to it finds its way back into my life.

     As the two of you may recall, I once tried to make a movie and the whole thing literally and figuratively went up in flames.  I escaped the situation – again literally and figuratively – unburned until I was revisited by it a couple of years down the road.
My handling of it all seemed to me that I had rid myself of it to the point where I could go on with my life.  New house, new puppy, new outlook and all.  Everything is good right?

RIGHT?!!?

Wrong™!

     [Phlip note: unless you received a DM from me on Instagram at/about 4pm on November 12rd, please click the link below before continuing]

[link]

     Now just why in the great blue hell would I be yammering on about my past lives haunting my present one and sharing THAT as supporting evidence?
Well since I lost all the footage of the “movie” I had tried to make, only me (and the other people involved) know what anyone IN my attempted film actually looked like.  If you haven’t guessed by now, it is READILY apparent that I have inadvertently radicalized a cell of violent radical little people extremists.
I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or be fuckin’ afraid so I will do all three.

     As I hope you read above, I THOUGHT I had sent the guy on his merry little (no pun intended) way to a new life in The Bahamas and I am sure I recall being approached by some cops about his burned out car in South Florida a while ago.  I thought this shit was OVER-over.  For all I know, and given how small technology can make the world, he could well still be making this content from anywhere in the world.
I got nothing to be concerned with, or so I thought until my phone rang from an unknown number…

Me: “Hello?”

Him: “Greetings, bigger!”

Me: “What the fuck you call me?”

Him: “I called you a ‘bigger’ because you have used your ‘height privilege’ to second-class me no longer!”

Me: “Is this the midg--…  um…  Little people from the movie fire?”

Him: “You’re getting good at this, and I just want you to know that--…”

Me: “… Alexa, play ‘Short People Got No Reason To live’.”

Him: “This is JUST the kind of shit we are trying to stamp out, you think you can--…”

Me: “Dude, I am 5’8”…  That was average height in the 80s.”

Him: “I’m four-foot-three.”

Me: “Aww, you’re getting BIG, lil’ buddy, one of these days you’re gonna--…”

Him: “… I’m gonna fuck you up, that’s what I’m gonna do!”

Me: “I thought I’d talked you through escaping to the Caribbean or something.”

Him: “Well, yes, but did you know that they see people like me as magic over here?  I have to sleep with one eye open to avoid being dissected by some voodoo bitch!”

Me: “Well…  I did NOT know that, but somehow this is even funnier to me.”

Him: “It isn’t funny.”

Me: “To someone with my maturity level, EVERYTHING is humorous.”

Him: “Well I am coming back, and I got a BUNCH of people behind me this time.  We will make you pay what you owe.”

Me: “’owe’?  I have not exacted any profit from your or my own work!”

Him: “Then we’ll take it in blood.”

Me: “You know my smallest dog is bigger than you, right?”

[Phlip note: my smallest dog weighs about 16 pounds…  The size of the largest one skews the average so this statement is only half-bullshit.  Also, I am an assshole]

Him: “Keep digging, bigger!”

 

Me: “I’m hanging up!”

Him: “No, don’t you hang up on me, I swear to you I will--…”

**CLICK**

     I don’t have time to waste on little shit…  What HAS happened, however, is I have been directly threatened and now feel as if my and my family’s lives are in danger and now I feel as if I should do something about it.
I am trying with all I got to keep my nose clean legally, so I am not gonna call the homies and gear up for war.  I am gonna call someone who owes me a favor…

Me: “Calling in that first favor.”

Him: “Fancy the phone ringing this way.”

Me: “Let’s skip over the smalltalk, could we?”

Woodpenis: “Will I get to ‘police’ something today?”

Me: “As in investigate a crime?  Yes.  I would rather you skip the wanton gunplay though.”

Woodpenis: “Here we go…  Whatcha got?”

Me: “Remember when y’all asked me about the disappearance of that midg--…  little person in connection with the fire?”

Woodpenis: “You said you had nothing to do with that!”

Me: “I said I had nothing to do with the fire, I never said--…”

Woodpenis: “Fine, fuck it, fuck  it…  What do you have?”

Me: “Well, there was apparently something to the finding of his car all burned out in Florida.  Dude apparently skipped to The Bahamas and has established a height supremacist terror cell and--…”

Woodpenis: “A… height… supremacy--…  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Me: “May I please finish, detective?”

Woodpenis: “Sorry…  g’head.”

Me: “He has started a height supremacist terror cell and he is blaming ME for his misfortune because I had tried to organize the movie that has him in the pickle he is in.”

Woodpenis: “But you haven’t been to The Bahamas since 2019, what have you to worry about?”

Me: “He’s coming back here.”

Woodpenis: “Well we’ll BOLO him and he won’t be able to come in through any international airport without being--…”

Me: “You mean like when he got OUT!?  Bahamas is pissing distance from Miami.  With less than a hundred bucks in the right palms, you can get into the country unseen in three hours.”

Woodpenis: “How do you know this?”

Me: “NEVER MIND THAT!”

Woodpenis: “So what do we do?”

Me: “I got a phone number he called me from.”

Woodpenis: “What is it?”

Me: “It’s 242-###-####”

Woodpenis: “Noted.”

Me: “Lemme know when I should call him back and we can see if y’all can’t set up some kind of a trace when he is back stateside.”

Woodpenis: “Smart.  You SURE you don’t wanna go to the academy and do this full time?”

Me: “Fuck you.”

Woodpenis: “Fine”

     Two hours later, he contacted me and told me things were a go on the track-and-trace.  I called my mark back and continued to lob fucked up little entendres at him to keep him on the line and further anger him to action.  This would last for approximately nine minutes until he finally had enough, told me to watch my lower back and hung up on me.

     Two weeks had passed and no one had contacted me.  Not Little Man, not Detective Woodcock, no other law enforcement and there were no burning effigies in my front yard, so I figure I am all in the clear and that the threat was overblown.
Saturday morning, I gets a call…

Me: “Well good day, sir!”

Woodpenis: “We got the motherfucker!”

Me: “Oh, he wasn’t bluffing!?”

Woodpenis: “Did you not call me with a credible threat?  NO he wasn’t bluffing.”

Me: “So how did you find him?”

Woodpenis: “As you said, he boated in to the keys and then went to a--…”

Me: “… He went to Ringling Brothers in Florida with nine friends and jacked a clown car before arming themselves all with two-shot Derringer pistols and--…”

Woodpenis: “Wow”

Me: “Sorry, I just hear the whimsical saxophone music playing in my head right now.”

Woodpenis: “You are a piece of work.  No…  He went to a grayhound station and the clerk recognized him from when the area had been previously canvased looking for him on the arson thing.  We stopped the bus he was scheduled to get onto and placed an officer on it in wait for him to get on and we had him!”

Me: “So he isn’t gonna strap me and every member of my family to little miniature saw horses and cut us up into pieces to make him little like him--…”

Woodpenis: “You know, I am beginning to feel like I should let him go and do whatever it was he intended.”

Me: “I’m sorry…  I’mma be good now.”

Woodpenis: “You won’t, but I’ll be here.  Be easy til next time, Moe--…  um…  Phillip.”

     I’m beginning to think he is doing that “Moe” thing on purpose.
If I have my druthers, there won’t BE a fuckin’ next time.  We know, though, that my luck serves it that there is ALWAYS a next time.


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