True Story©... Dead Man Walking


As the two of you well know, my dumb ass thought I was told I had 24 hours to live one time last month.
As you may or not have observed in these here pages over the past several years, I took this information and made a simple misunderstanding into an absofuckinglute PROBLEM for a bunch of people.  The vessel of the worst of those problems, naturally, being myself.

It stands to reason that NOT having only a day to live is actually a pretty good thing, y’all.  I can thank my now-21-month commitment to my health and fitness.  My doctors are actually kind of wowed at my laser focus and refusal to chill out on my regimen.  Needless to say, I **should** have more than 24 hours left on this spinning rock.
…  but there is some fallout from my actions and that is an absolute problem, because I have ABSOLUTELY burned some bridges here in a city that I cannot afford to leave.

One thing I never do is sit around wondering where my exes are living or what they are up to.  What I do know is that when I thought I was a f’sho goner, I may or not have emailed a few of them with some very specific grievances and explained that my then-pending expiration was on them but I did not do so from a position of knowing where they were or particularly caring how that might affect them.

As we discussed, I learned that I was in fact NOT scheduled to die last month and that my preparations and actions may have been quite (fool)hardy to say the very least.
In dealing with the fallout, there has been the positive of my family knowing my exact wishes and all available information should my end come as a surprise.  There is the knowledge within me of what I MIGHT do if faced with such a situation and that could be viewed as either a positive or a negative depending on one’s particular point of view.

… which brings me to the topic of those burned bridges…

First thing’s first…  The people I gave a piece of my mind and my ass to kiss?  They still got that.  Small price to pay for cutting off people who I have felt wronged me instead of continuing to stress over it for the rest of forever.  We’ll call that a net-positive.
I mentioned the exes…  As previously discussed, I have been out of the business of checking in anyone I have previously dated.  I was never curious about “running it back;” not before I met my current wife, not between my ex-wife someone I had a wedding with once and meeting Wife Person™ and certainly not since.  They were all dust in the wind until I let my inner-petty wash over me when I thought there would be no consequences.

One thing about me is that I don’t go “outside.”  I mean, I spend a whopping amount of my time outdoors between lawn work and exercise, but the definition of “outside” in a post-Covid world means more that one is out doing normal-assed things like shopping or dining.  I don’t do that often because the Covid years taught me just how much I love my own company and that of my dogs.
There remains, however, times where I have no choice but to be out in the city…  I tend to contain those trips into my lunch time, noon on weekdays, when I know most normal people will be working and not outside in the city to bug me.  It is kind of like having Wal Mart – or even the mall! – to myself in that way.

Imagine my utter BEWILDERMENT when I stepped out to The Walmarks week before last and encountered not one but THREE of the exes I had emailed when I was so sure that I would never be seen again.
Something told me to get my ass back in the car and gone home when I saw [redacted] in the deli as I walked in.  She didn’t see me and was apparently just grabbing some food before going home and ruining some other hapless bastard’s life.  I will just drag it out and not finish my walkthrough too quickly.

This is where shit gets wild…
I go by electronics to see what PS4 and 5 games are on clearance pricing and assess whether I am interested enough to make a purchase.  By the televisions, I see ANOTHER recipient of my fire-hot email!
What.  The.  FUCK?!!?
Quickly, it is off to the wily tactical maneuvers to duck down and not be seen.  I made it out of the electronics department unscathed and thought “fuggit, I’ll go check out the hotwheels.  Ain’t nobody gon’ be over there in the middle of the day but nerds like me.”
Naturally, I could not take a direct line from electronics to toys without being in open air and exposing myself to be seen.  I ducked through housewares, past the frames and towels and shit, popped up next to the intersection of toys and sporting goods.  If you know anything of a Walmart layout, you know that this is where the weights and fitness stuff is on one side and the bicycles on the other…

I look both ways, right then left, and–… HOLY FUCK THEY’RE TALKING TO EACH OTHER!!!
I didn’t even know they KNEW each other!  Dis sum boosheet.
Clearly there is some biblical-level transgression that has visited upon me the level of karma that puts me in such a situation and – in my mind – that karma can have literally nothing to do with an email I might have sent.  Nevermind that, because in my startledness, I fell back into the bicycle display and knocked six bikes all over the damned aisle.  EVERYONE in earshot snapped to attention as this fat fucking goon has destroyed a whole-ass display while trying NOT to be seen.

I hid my face and scurried the fuck out of the store, leaving whatever it was in my hands right there in the floor where that display was.
Security attempted to give chase, but I am not NEAR the out-of-shape jackass I have been in the past and my “it’s easier to back INTO a parking space than it is to back OUT of one” approach to parking lots came in EXTRA handy this day, I darted right past him.  I didn’t even care if he took down the tag number, I didn’t steal shit.  I would rather explain to the cops WHY I bolted out the store in such a rush than to actually face what I had done.


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