The musings of a madman...

       When we left you , I had done a little footwork for our pal Detective Ramsbottom. I had gone into the probable scene of the alleged crime and done some reconnaissance as to the source of the illicit dingaling pills. In my “research,” I had gained some suspicion that the owner of this store or someone close to him was behind the whole shit.      What I had not noticed until I had a chance to sit down and relax, however, was that there was no UPC bar code on the back of the package. This suggests FOR SURE that this is someone’s basement/garage operation, perhaps as a “fake it til you make it” kinda deal where one goes into business under the radar until they have a proven winner and then they go legit. The problem here is that they ain’t painting houses, they are out here giving people heart attacks with unregulated wee-wee products. I made a phonecall Ramsbottom: “I thought you told me I was gonna have to do some policing?” Me: “Don’t use my words against me" Ramsbottom

       I would love the opportunity to say that “y’know, shit has been kinda quiet here lately,” but my life just isn’t set up for things to go that smoothly. While I would love to be able to take solace in no one ringing my phone as much as I DETEST phone conversations with anyone other than my brother, I legitimately hate unannounced pop-up visitors more than I do phone calls. I mean, I work from home and don’t get fully dressed most days so I tend to make it so most people don’t even know where I actually live whenever possible.      You know who does know where I live, whether I like it or not? Greensboro Police Department. Not because I am personally some kind of criminal – Moe Phillips is none of their fucking business – but due to a weird series of prior interactions that have been documented here in pages of True Story©…      That said, I am minding the business that ACTUALLY pays me in my bottom-front room facing my driveway and street so I can watch the world outside m

       I had told myself I wasn’t doing this shit again, really I tried… After that last time , I NEEDED not try this shit again!      My problem is that I can’t idly sit by and do nothing when pressed with a problem I can fix, especially when I can do so without necessarily getting my hands dirty. That said, I'm home trying to lay low after the last weeks’ Vegas adventures – mainly trying not to further draw the ire of Wife Person™ – minding my own damn business when I get an email to the Moe Phillips account… “Moe, I come to you with this because I am really not sure who else I could approach with this. I was recently employed at a small family restaurant where the money and tips were good enough for my lifestyle until a family member needed some financial help and put me and mine in a bit of a bind. I asked the owner if it would be possible to get some more hours to make up what my mother and I had had to lay out to help out and his response was to try and have sex with me.

       “So where was he?” you ask… The short answer would be “away for two weeks,” but the full picture is much MUCH deeper.      Part of me wants to just up and tell you “look, I lost track of what day it was week before last and landed myself in the ER last week and got thrown off,” but where would be the fun in that? Let’s go back, way back into time to the distant time coordinates of Monday August 19… I had a doctor’s appointment that morning and, after noticing that I have a TON of unused leave time at work, decided to take the whole day off instead of just the couple of hours to cover my appointment/lab time. My visit goes fine and I swing by the lab to have my blood drawn on the way back to the house to cut my front yard. As I have made some adjustments to my mower which anyone connected to me on BookFace has seen, I double-cut the yard so it took me 30 minutes instead of 13. Still no biggie.      What happened next is the beginning of my problems… I finish the lawn,