Get ready for some stream of consciousness.


%Auction  17628/205  38-Oct-91
---- tcc joining (Oct 26 02:11)
tcc:      blup
tcc:      aack too polite
<tcc farts>
<tcc is sniffing>
<tcc blows chunks>
tcc:      Oooh, it's about time for another Attention meijer SHOPPERS, you are
Cordially Invited for a Personal tour of our Wonderful Trash Compacter.  Head
First. tcc:      item. tcc:      Ok, so no one's here.  I'll just babble
alonely. tcc:      I dunno, I seem to do my best typing at unhuman speeds. tcc:
     So anyway.  I get up at 7:30 am, which is totally unheard of -- being as
how I'm rarely awake at 8 am. tcc:      Time for the Auto Auction. tcc:      I
drag my ass out of bed, shower, clothe, and plop myself in the drivers seat of
my nasty 87 Horizon ... tailing Gary, driving a <someyear> topaz that tcc:     
he got as a rental.  (Another hit & run accident, bashing in the same fender as
before.  Sometime late some night.  Someone with a big truck. tcc:      Luckily
there's 0 deductable on the comprehensive.)  So it's like totally dismal and
rainy and wet, and I feel like a dishtowel much of the day. tcc:      The car
stinks particularly bad from the dried rug shampoo.  Makes me dizzy, usually,
but today the grogginess of 3 hours of sleep seem to strangely overcome that.
tcc:      Anyway, up Telegraph, and right at some dirt road.  Huge lot with at
least 200 cars in it.  Gary parks outside the fence, and the guy at the gate
directs ---- reach joining (Oct 26 02:20) tcc:      me to drive behind this
airplane-hangar-sized building, where another guy directs me to park behind
this 87 Caddy Seville. tcc:      It seems that this lot is populated by men in
their late 50s with leathery faces totally unshaven, slovenly dressed, chewing
tobacco and smelling quite foul. tcc:      oops, hello reach:    Don't mind
me... reach:    Sounds like a fun trip so far. tcc:      So, we go into this
makeshift office in this behemoth of a building.  Thing looks like it was
someone's transplanted summer cottage .. in the middle of this filthy building
reach:    (doesn't one usually rinse out shampoo, though?) tcc:      The
secretaries, if you could call them that, are smartly dressed in plaid flannel
shirts, and torn blue jeans.  they reside behind 3 inch thick bulletproof tcc: 
    glass. ---- banzai joining (Oct 26 02:24) tcc:      (Rug shampoo -- spray
on, scrub, vacuum out.  Vacuum never gets it all out.) reach:    Oh. reach:   
Hello, banzai. tcc:      (After all, this *is* the edge of Detroit.)  She
starts throwing papers at me, blabbing in some drooling Brightmoor dialect of
the American version of the English language. <reach curtseys> banzai:   Hi you
two, what's the story about? <banzai bows> reach:    I'm still waiting to see.
reach:    I think tcc leads a more interesting life than I. tcc:      She wads
the papers and pushes them until she decides that I need to talk to one of the
primo whitetrashions manning the gate, and get some ticket... tcc:      It
seems all so disorganized, like everyone really doesn't like their job, and
even dislikes it more when its raining. <reach thinks this may be an A-Team
episode> tcc:      Boob A directs to Goomer B who delegates to Bonehead C .
reach:    In any case, it is nicely told, to this point. tcc:      So we get
the ticket, which is so smeared from the rain by the time we get it back into
the building as to be unreadable.  But that's OK, because miss reach:    I
believe I went to High School with a "Goomer, B." <banzai smiles> tcc:     
snaggletooth behind the theft barrier can get all the info she needs off of the
Title & Registration I had in my hand to begin with. tcc:      But then of
course, that would be all too easy.  She pushes more forms at me, blabbering
all the time in her unintelligible drool.  I just Sign At Her X's. tcc:     
She made me sign the title, which was something I realy didn't want to do,
seeing as how the papers were supposed to stay there in the booth. tcc:      So
I get this yellow stained paper that has my order-number stapled to a receipt. 
It costs $10 to register a car for the auction. tcc:      All Gary has is a
$20.  Her blabbering congeals into a few words that I can understand -- "No
change ... don't keep back here ... get change". tcc:      So I take the $20
over to the makeshift concessions stand, which really looks more like a
busstation bathroom than a consessions stand. tcc:      I order a coffee, and
the woman that was manning the stand, of course, doesn't have change either. 
She looks like a mother of 12. tcc:      She asks a short hag that appears --
from under the counter.  She has to lug out this sleepingbag sized purse and
starts to rummage.  In a few minutes, tcc:      she produces a ten and two
fives.  I get them, and by this time I'm too entranced by the characters before
me, tha tI forget that I'm due back at the tcc:      registration window... 
The blabbering blub looks adequately steamed.  That's OK, I thought she was a
snot.  She staples (!) the ten to the other reams of tcc:      paper that I've
signed and shoos us on our way. reach:    Staples? My. tcc:      We step back
into the cavernous building surrounding us.  It's cold, wet, and green puddles
of antifreeze creep toward the rusted drains in the concrete floor. tcc:     
More of the trashy pions in blaze orange vests are meandering their way in, mix
of races -- whitetrash, black, slavic.  They pair off into discussion groups
tcc:      and ponder the depths of their respective interests.  the whitetrash,
hunting; black, athletic clothing; slavic, from what I could pick up from my
own rusty banzai:   Wow. Interesting turn in the story. tcc:      polish,
something about draperies.  Time lags on, and it's 9:15. reach:    Draperies?
tcc:      A few other prospective car-sellers make their way into the
registration shanty and deal in their own respective ways with Ms. Blabber.
tcc:      Draperies.  I couldn't believe it myself, but 'draperies' is a very
distinctive word in polish and they were saying it over and over. reach:   
Perhaps they were using "draperies" as some sort of metaphor? reach:    "It'll
be curtains for you, Rocco!" tcc:      Anyway, My stomach is growling much like
the Renault Encore they were trying to start just outside the rightmost of
three enormous doors. reach:    What is this about auctioning your car? tcc:   
  No, because they were also saying "Wife" bla bla bla "Draperies" reach:   
"Do you think I could get away with smothering my wife in the draperies?"
banzai:   Stream of consiousness bbs'ing. Hmmm. tcc:      I'm trying to
remember as much as possible of what images & memories I have f today's
happenings. banzai:   "wife?" reach:    Perhaps they have a...special
attatchment to these draperies. tcc:      I mostly always stream my
consciousness. reach:    I prefer my consciousness steamed on the half-shell.
reach:    With butter, and perhaps lemon. tcc:      I dunno, I quit listening
and moved away when they suspected I was listening and flashed me a
less-than-pleased-at-my-existence glare. reach:    And a red wine. tcc:      We
went back into the shack, and perused the consession stand.  Ham & Cheese
bagels, Danish (both 'red stuff inem' and cheese), microwave hamburgers, reach:
   Um. Now *I'm* hungry. reach:    The "red stuff inem" sounds great...I can
almost smell them. tcc:      chips, standard consession fare.  I decide on a
'red stuff inem' and it was actually quite good.  Homemade, not stale.  Coffee
was similarly as good. <reach sniffs> reach:    Ahh... <reach smells
antifreeze> banzai:   For some reason I really agree with the idea that white
goes with fish and red with meat.  Normally I'm not that "mainstream" ;| <reach
has got to be going> tcc:      So we take a sitz at the tables.  Wathing the
crowd start to form outside the windows.  It's 9:45, and the auction is drawing
near. banzai:   (antifreeze?  bbsing with your car-phone again?) tcc:      a
sulfrous stench wafts from the nearby men's restroom door.  Door is ajar. ----
tcc leaving (Oct 26 02:52) ---- tcc joining (Oct 26 02:52) tcc:      Everything
is wet, and brown.  I look out the dirty window, my car is far off to the
leftmost row, about 7 cars in. reach:    I'm afraid I will have to get the
climax of this story later. reach:    Good nightm gentlemen. <reach curtseys>
<banzai waves goodbye to ruth> reach:    "night," rather than "nightm" ----
reach leaving (Oct 26 02:54) tcc:      I look at the receipt, the "He Who Has
This Receipt, Owns the Car".  A wave of sleepyness roves over me, and i nod
down and snore once or twice. tcc:      la tcc:      I am awakened by some
boistrous bitching somewheres to my rearward.  I turn to look, and the old hag
behind the consession stand is arguing with a black man. tcc:      In her hand
is a government blue-book on the prices of cars.  He is very visibly irate. 
she is screaming "IT SAYS RIGHT HERE, $2500! Take it or leave it!" <banzai
yawns> tcc:      I start to wonder why a consession lady is quoting blue-book
prices.  I decide that it's to my best interest staying awake and commence
walking around. banzai:   Sorry, but I think it's past my beddie by time ....
tcc:      I wonder past what looks to be some offices.  I gaze in -- used
office equipment.  a Burroughs 9-track console unit.  Two, acutally. tcc:     
bye banzai:   See you later.  I'll read the story later. <banzai waves goodbye>
---- banzai leaving (Oct 26 02:58) tcc:      I wander out an unguarded door,
and around the building from telegraph.  I see quite a few more people that
previously milling about the yard -- kicking tires, tcc:      scratching
bond-o, rolling windows, beeping horns, wiping windows, screwing with power
buttons and having a grand old time. tcc:      Rain is more coming than going. 
Sky to the south grows progressively grayer. tcc:      My hair is flat against
my head by now, being rained on for a few deciminutes. tcc:      I feel like a
sweatsock fresh from the workout.  And, the scent coming from the yard makes
the feeling more vivid. tcc:      I wander about the yard myself, and notice
that from every rear-view mirror there hangs a tag stating who is selling each
car, mileage, listing number, and tcc:      make.  My number is 209A.  Seems to
be the highest number around the lot.  Oh well, probably doesn't mean anything.
tcc:      By now, 9:55 or so, there is a sizeable crowd gathering around the
eastern doors of the building.  Before, I noticed cars parked outside there,
tcc:      all of which were in incredibly sad shape.  Busted windows, missing
sides, holy fenders, missing doors, missing seats, missing tops, missing
bottoms, tcc:      missing trunks.  I view this from the relative comfort of
just inside the building.  I see off to my left a greenish tank of a car. 
Another 77 Toro! tcc:      The auctioneer is going from one 'bargain bin' car
to another.  People are actually buying this shit! ---- tcc leaving (Oct 26
03:07) ---- tcc joining (Oct 26 03:07) tcc:      To the right of the greenish
Toro is a white Topaz.  Burned from the inside out.  To the right of that, and
overpurple purple "Fix It Again Tony" is being tcc:      relished by a couple
of arabs dressed to the t's in gold & Rich Corinthian Leather jackets that are
quite useless in this drizzle.  Their bid was $4500. tcc:      Only problem
with the car is that it was modified for nitrous.  Which loosely translated
into pushrod projectiles shooting through the hood and onto the tcc:     
ground at an intersection.  Also means a complete lack of an engine.  But, the
interior was nice. tcc:      Crowd of mixed men moves to the topaz.  Bidding
started at $1500 and quickly rose to $1525.  Once twice Sold to the African
American Mel Farr buyer. tcc:      Crowd moves past Toro and pile of what once
was a semi.  Onto a prelude.  Mising wheels, trunklid, hood, front windshield,
and of course hood ornament. tcc:      this is the time that I notice the
grunt, wandering about quite securely in the crowd.  He's quite cute. tcc:     
Wearing double sweatshirts, desert camo, desert army issue boots.  Touseld
blond hair, wetting from the drench.  Hole in pants next to left rear pocket.
tcc:      Turquoise nylon underwear.  Eyes strangely slightly misplaced, one
higher than the other.  Small eyes, but very cute.  Sad look on face. tcc:     
I venture back into the garage and find gary sittin gon a white resin chair,
not too far from where the ceiling heater is pouring out tropics. tcc:      I
stand around for a little while longer, an dget antsy so I investigate the
other merchandise.  Pallate full of huge printers. Qume Diablo tractor feeds
tcc:      silencer boxes.  strange support hardware.  Auction moves inside.
tcc:      Steady parade of cars ensues, in north doors, out south. tcc:     
Strange custom of Snxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ---- tcc leaving (Oct 26
03:18) ---- mythago joining (Oct 26 06:30) ---- mythago leaving (Oct 26 06:30)
---- ldiot joining (Oct 26 11:49) ---- ldiot leaving (Oct 26 12:05) ----
polygon joining (Oct 26 14:46) <polygon swings on a star, carries moonbeams
home in a jar> ---- polygon leaving (Oct 26 14:46) ---- tcc joining (Oct 26
16:11) tcc:      Oh now where was I. tcc:      Strange custom of turning on red
police light suspended from ceiling, to show that something's not quite right
about the car.  Most of the time it means tcc:      that the car needs an AET
test.  Auctioneer bitches and cusses over the PA about people smoking in front
of the booth. tcc:      The big box building is sonically seperated by
gargantuan wall sections suspended also from the ceiling.  Painted Red & white.
tcc:      blaah this is all boring now. tcc:      Synopsize. tcc:      So all
these cars go through the lot empties and my car is one of 5 out of the 200
that were in the lot that are *still There*. tcc:      I only got 3 houars
sleep the night before so I go lay down in the rental leaving gary in the
auction building. tcc:      I start to drift off, and my sister knocks on the
door.  What the fuck was she doing there? tcc:      Roll down windoe. Dad wants
to buy your car.  Ok..... Why didnt he tell me this when he decided it this
morning at 5am instead of letting us go through all of this tcc:      bringing
the car down and standing in the rain for hours & hours? tcc:      So we go to
Ms. babblage in th ebooth and get our papers back, she doesn't know where the
papers are.  My friggin title! tcc:      Auctioneers dont know where the
paperwork that they're supposed to have is. tcc:      I start to panic ... so
the bi5tch finds the papers stamps them and throws them out the window, sans
the $10 for the 'auction'.  Fucking bitch did it on purpose. tcc:      I give
the booth one swift kick effectively knocking the terminal that was on the desk
in front of her effectively off the table and effectively onto the floor. tcc: 
    We leave.  Panic panic panic It's 3:30, and I have to ge at work at 5. tcc:
     I want my new car! tcc:      cancell insurance on old.  Get insurance on
new -- forgot old proof of insurance so I can get 'allstate' rate instead of
'state' rate. tcc:      run home, throw things around, try to find it. tcc:    
 It's 3:55. tcc:      find old quote with dates of coverage.  EWill this do it?
 Run to the office. get insurance. 4:15 tcc:      run to Sec of State.  Get
title. get registration.  run home. 4:35 tcc:      get dressed for work.  make
horseradish mayonnaise turkey-bologna sandwich. tcc:      chow.  run to party
store get Diet Dr. Pepper tcc:      dump into squeeze bottle.  Jump into Big
Car. tcc:      Start Big Car.  Haven't Drived car bigger than Sub-Compact
before. tcc:      Tile wheel.  Adjust power seat. adjust mirrors. turn on
radio.  MOOOVE tcc:      turn corner fast.  scrape door handles tcc:      turn
right from Royal Grand to Elmira.  VROOM Turn right from Elmira onto Beech Daly
tcc:      VROOM tcc:      hit the gas.  4 Gs tcc:      pass plymouth, glendale,
tran tracks, hit I96 tcc:      Go Westward, boy ... tcc:      traffic at 50mph
like a missed orgasm. tcc:      traffic clears up about Farmington Road. tcc:  
   60 65 70 75 80 85 riding on a cloud. tcc:      TRAFFIC!  brakes.  TURNOFF! 
bumper to bumper.  BRAKELIGHTS!  accident. tcc:      MY LANE! tcc:      Cut off
honda.  Feel powerful. tcc:      VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! tcc:     
Northbound I275 tcc:      traffic at 75 mph ... feeling of bliss smile on my
face.  Feeling like driving a beanbag. tcc:      Faaaaaaaabulous! tcc:      6
mile exit.  7 mile exit - east.  7 mile exit - west. EXIT                      
                                                   25 MPH tcc:      85 to 25 in
2 seconds. tcc:      round wide curve.  No traffic on 7 mile.  Turn corner at
45 mph.  scrape door handles on concrete. tcc:      short burst to light. 
7-mile & haggerty.  NO TURN ON ReD.  Savor idle. tcc:      Green Light.  Right
turn large acceleration.  downward rightish sloping curve.  err leftish sloping
 curve. tcc:      TURN lANE! cars. 45 TO 0 DECELERATION!  turn signal.  LEFT
TURN! stop.  RIGHT TURN! A-Lot.  IDLE! The Club (tm). 
lights\radio\tilt\wipers\defog\engine. tcc:      walk arount it.  still have
hubcaps.  Take up two parking spaces.  Ecstasy. tcc:      Work blaah tcc:     
Drive home.
reverseLEFTforwardVROOM8mileRIGHTlightHAGGERTYdarkTRAFFIC8mile50MPHcushionLIGHTh
alsteadNEWBURGH---grandriverRIGGHT45mphMIDDLEBELTinksterBEECHDALY tcc:     
right7MILE6mile5MILEi96plymouth.  HARD LEFT TURN tcc:      HARD RIGHT TURN
park.  Ecstasy. tcc:      IRC  Grex SLEEP wake TV masturbate IRC Grex. !party
tcc:      here new Ecstasy. ---- tcc leaving (Oct 26 16:41)

4 responses total.

I saw this in the original.  I'm glad you saved it, tcc.  <grin>

<griz notes the time of day at which the first part was typed>

Oh, 3 am is nothing for me.  Only that I had had 3 hours of sleep the night
before was the problem. 

With a guest appearence by yours truly, no less.
I feel...honored.
(what honor comes of trodding upon another's stream)

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