Dear (_____)

Dear cloak and dagger drug dealer,

I find it a little bit hilarious that I parked my enormous white truck at the back of a parking lot, to make it easier for other people to park and me to get out of the parking lot, and you saw me run in to the general store and decided it was a perfect opportunity to do business.  I was as surprised to see your black, tinted, Cadillac jammed into the last swatch of asphalt behind it at 9:30 and couldn't help smiling at the two gray bearded white gentleman strolling away like it was normal when it became clear that I, black dread folk with a frown because I just wanted to pick up cat litter and get the hell home, owned that truck and was walking directly toward you.

I can't imagine how fast your conversation ended with them or if you thought I would say something to them.  I can't imagine the conversation that started inside your head or heads as they strolled away in stiff  "just, walking through a parking lot at night.  Nothing to see here" lockstep when I fired up the old iron horse and popped my headlights.  I hope you don't think I cared.  Everyone does what they have to do.

You were very cute.  Literally the only thing that could have hid you from view was a giant truck.  It was very spy versus spy except no one actually gives a shit around here.  I can imagine when you popped your own headlights, as I waited for you to get the hell out of the way so I could back up and cut my wheel and get moving, and then turned off those xenon high discharge whatevers and decided to let me go first that you realized whatever jig you were up to was already up and you may as well wait for me to go.

I can also imagine your thought process as I backed and went forward and backed and went forward, jammed in because you had to park so fucking close to me to get that stealth boat in there in the first place, and my headlights lit up your entire interior while I cussed at the inconvenience... I mean, the alley was literally ten feet away.  What's the fucking difference.  Pull around and be stealthier or something.  "What if he clips us?"  "What if he gets out and asks us to move?"  "We'll have to shoot him."

I'm glad I got around you.  I'm still shaking my head.  No one gives a damn.  Do your business.  Get the hell out.  Everybody wins.  No need for ridiculous cloak and dagger, hide behind the truck, no one can see us, b.s.  There are easier ways to be unseen.  Parking a giant black Cadillac with unmistakable headlights behind an enormous truck of a person who just ran into the store for a couple general items when you are relying on someone to meet you and make a transaction and get out before that person returns to their car is a bit silly.  I'm just trying to get home, my friend.

Choose better next time.  Keep it simple.  Laughingly yours,

a working man