Comments Fixed, Vancouver Continued

(O.K., David seems to have resolved the Comments situation.  So, if you posted one before, I think that it's still gone forever, but I should be able to get new ones if you post them now.)

     So he got into my car.  This was not good.  Karena mouthed "it's cool," or maybe "is this cool?" at me.  He was definitely not "cool," or "o.k.," or "not a criminal."  He immediately started talking this existential soliloquy at us, encompassing many things that I didn't want to hear from any man who had just stepped into the car with me, regardless of whether or not I have a tough N.Y. friend there for "protection."  He was really upset about how you can't trust anybody anymore these days, and how you gotta watch out for "cheese tasters," and he seemed generally excitable.

(him) "So you two wanna get some beer...

...

...do you live near here?"

"UHHh, NO!  I mean, sort of far, but not here, no, not right around here."

(him) "Yeah, I haven't been here long, but I been here before.  But not for a while.  I been gone for a while...

...There used to be this other store right there, near where the Freddy's is, just this little place.  I used to go there...

...I been gone for a while.There was this guy I used to know.. you GOTTA WAtch out for cheese tasters though..."

(He was getting very emotional already, and his sentences were starting to run together.  Definitely picking up some steam.)

(him) "I needed an 8 ball, you know?  And this guy I knew said he could get me one.  So we met up at this plACE, you know!?  It was, like, a hotel down in this place over by the.And he was gonna get me the 8 ball, so I came down there, and I found him in the roOM.  And right when he was gonna give it to me the cOps came there!"

"Oh, man..."  We tried to sound like "we've been there, buddy, you don't have to worry about, or kill, us."  He had this vibe that was at once very forceful and very needy; like at any moment he could either crumble into a sad, kindergarden disappointment at having Done the Wrong Thing, or overpower us, abduct us, and pull some sort of Twin Peaks shit in the woods outside of town.

(him) "I know!  I couldn't believe it!RIGHT then!I don't know how they found us  .But the guy got outa there somehow.I don't know how he did it, but he got OUTa there.  So they took me down, and they were telling me "WHO DO YOU GET IT FROM" and "WE'LL MAKE A DEAL WITH YOU" but I wouldn't take it!  You can't listen to 'em 'cause they'll tell you all.I wouldn't do it, man, 'cause I'm no cheese taster!  Not like some guys that are out there.  Man, you gotta watch out for that, man; 'cause they'll rat you out, nothing.they'll take that cheese and you'll be swingin' by your balls in there!"

(I don't think that he meant us, literally.)

(him) "People's low, man, they do anything.  You know?  I just wanted my 8 ball...And they already wanted to put me away, but I wouldn't do it.  They had me mArked.I'm a decent guy, you know?  'Cause after you're in the system they put you away for nOthing!"

     I don't remember everything he talked about, but that pretty much got us to the parking lot.  It seemed like about a half hour, but it was probably more like three minutes of these slightly-too-impassioned reminiscences.  So we parked in what seemed like an inconspicuous spot—not too close, not too far—and gave him most of the money that we had in the world, silently resigning ourselves to the fact that we would see no return from it of any sort.  Ever.

     And he walked off.

     Directly we could no longer see him in the rearview, Karena and I turned to each other in a half-crazed and breathless cackle of terrified hilarity; "OH MY GOD!Are we gonna die?Is he going to kill us?Should we just drive away right now?'CHEESE TASTERS'?!?!?"

"We're never going to see that money again anyway.  We should just drive.  We should go right now."

"But what if he comes back with our beer?"

"I know!  I don't know.."

"But what if he comes back and kills us?!"

"I KNOW!"

"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God..."

"O.k.  He's probably not going to kill us.  He's probably just a little crazy, and maybe he'll take our money and we'll never see him again, but maybe he'll come back with some beer, and we'll give him some more cigarettes, and we'll go home and never see him again...

...OH MY GOD!"

"He's taking a really long time.  Is he taking a really long time?  When did he go in?"

"I don't know.  I think he's taking a really long time."

"Oh, shit."

"What are we going to do?!"

"NO!  Oh my God, here he comes!"

"Oh, shit!oh, pleease don't kill us, pleeease don't let him kill us!"

"Oh my GOD!"

"WhaT!?"

"He's pushing a cart!"

"A shopping cart?"

"Yeah..."

"..."

"What is that?"

"O.K! Here he comes, here he comes!"

(him) "Hey!"

"Hey..."

(him) "Check it out!"

"Oh, my God!"

The discrepancy was slowly dawning on us; we had only given him about twelve dollars, but he came back wheeling a huge case of Bud bottles, and about half of a slaughtered cow.

(him) "Do you like meat?  I got you some meat."

"Yeah, I know."

"Wait...  How did you get all that stuff?"

(him) "Took it."

"YOU SHOPLIFTED IT?"

"DRIVE!!"

(him) "Whoa!  They won't know."

"LOOK at all that stuff you have!  How did you get out of there?!"

He was handing us our money back!

(him) "I learned from the best and now he's dead."

"..."

(him) "...The trick is the shopping cart.  So, do you like meat?"

"Uh..."

"Were...  um."

"Vegetarians."

(him; face registers nothing)

"We, ah, don't... eat, meat."

He looked just crestfallen.  He was so sure that he would make a huge hit with the cow, and we wouldn't even eat it.

"But our neighbors downstairs will LOVE it!"

"Yeah!  Oh my God, they'll totally love it!"

(him) "Really?" (regaining some hope, but not convinced)

"Yeah, they LOVE meat!  They'll love this meat!"

     This was basically true.  We had no way of knowing for sure that our downstairs neighbors would "love this meat," but they were three-ish twenty-ish brothers who had this gigantic stereo system that looked like it had been designed to provide "dancing music" for a wet T-shirt contest in some movie about nitro car racing.  I think that they also raced nitro cars.  And they smoked a shitload of pot.  They had this amazingly intense job, working for a disaster cleanup and restoration company, where they would go into houses after there had been flooding or a fire, or after people kill themselves, and they would clean up the mess as best they could so that someone else might be able to use the property.
     Mostly we felt sure that if we said "love" and "meat" and "neighbors downstairs" enough we could work out some kind of a plan before our new friend killed us.

     I guess we managed to convince him that the guys would be worthy enough recipients of the meat, and we made it back to the movie store, giving him some of our money for his trouble, thanking him for the beer and for everything, and hoping for a clean break.  When we got there, he wondered, "So, you think you can drive me, just, down over there?  There's this field..?"

     Yes, he wanted us to drive him to a vacant lot that was "really close to here."  He again seemed crestfallen and saddened when we gently-but-firmly declined him this favor, and I felt almost bad, and almost crazy for feeling bad.