Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
I woke up annoyed. I know there are those of you who imagine I wake up annoyed every day, but you're wrong. Every other Thursday, I wake up Filled With Rage. And Saturdays are usually reserved for Confused Ire.
Out in the kitchen, my roommate was listening to an audiobook. I have to assume the book is called Detective Filesearcher And The Files From The FIle Cabinet. Here's the excerpt that I woke up to. <<He opened the file cabinet to search for the file that would help him clear the case but the fie cabinet had been tampered with and the files were out of order. Someone didn't want him to find the file. His search was taking too long. Any minute now someone would walk into the office and find him searching for the file, and the gig would be up. He had to find the file fast. When he finally found the file, it seemed light. He should have held the file under his arm as he exited the office but the file was awkward. He worried someone would see him carrying the file out of the office. But no one did. He drove to Danny's house. She answered the door in her robe. The belt of the robe was askew just enough to reveal the outline of her nightgown. It reminded him of how the file was slightly falling out of the file folder. "What's that file?" Danny asked, questioningly. "Nevermind the file." He said. "I'm hungry." "Fine. I'll make eggs for you and your file." She said file-ingly. While Danny cooked eggs, he went into the garage with the file. Parts of the file were missing. There were spreadsheets and TL-9 reports, and pictures, and paperwork, and newspaper articles but still there was something not in the file. "Who had tampered with the file," he wondered "and what had they taken from the file?" Suddenly, the garage door opened. It was the FBI. "I'm Detective Persons. FBI." The FBI agent said. "I'm here for the file." "What file?" He asked, putting the file on the hood of the car. Danny opened the garage door. "What are you doing in my garage?" Danny asked. "Is this about the file?" "Keep your mouth shut, Danny." He said. "I'm from the FBI." The FBI agent said. "Go back into the house ma'am." "This is my garage." Danny said while standing in her garage. "Ma'am. I'm from the FBI and I'm going to need you to leave your garage." "But it's my garage." Danny said to the FBI agent. "Ma'am. This doesn't concern you. This is FBI business. I'm an FBI agent. I need you to leave." Danny covered her nightgown with her robe. "You need me to leave my garage so you can talk about the file?" Danny asked. "Yes ma'am." The FBI agent said. "It's about the file." he said. Danny left the garage, clutching her robe around her nightgown. "Looks like I'm never going to get those eggs." He said. "Is that the file on the hood of the car?" The FBI agent asked. "What file?" He asked. He had brushed the file to the garage floor while FBI Agent Persons talked to Danny. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me." FBI Agent Persons said. "We have some questions about a missing file." They walked out the garage door, the file still loose on the garage floor. He hoped Danny found it before the FBI agents got a search warrant. As he got into the car, he imagined Danny picking up the files in her bathrobe, the belt askew, revealing the outline of her nightgown. He filed that thought away.>>
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