Sunday, December 27, 2009

The Peal of New Mail


    The Time Warner Cable man walks into my room.

    Carrying a bag. He was jovial, big smiles, rested his equipment on the floor and crawled under my table coming away with the modem. He connected a Continuity Tester on the cable connected to the modem. It failed. I make coffee. He gets up and leaves the room, stating that he will be back. I finish making coffee, pour myself a cup. Drink it. Pour myself another. What the fuck happened to this guy? I look outside my door and find him in the cable closet less than four feet from my door, testing continuity. He has a signal in the closet.

    He returns to my room, and goes to the wall outlet where the cable is coming from. He removes the wallplate and finds that there is NO CABLE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING PLATE! He gets up and leaves the room, while I stoop low, and look through the hole in the wall, and can see clear through the foot wide space between my wall and my neighbor, the Drunk Ass old man. I see legs, hear broken English, motion, then nothing. I step back. Back to my coffee.

    The Cable man walks in again, shaking his head. What happened? I ask. Something you guys did? He shook his head, pulling at a length of cable from the wall and cutting the end off of it. "Funny," he begins. "Your neighbor took off the plate on his side of the wall, reached in and pulled out your cable connection from the inside of your wall, then pulled it up and into his television, thinking he could get free cable that way."

    That mother- fucker did what? "He pulled your cable connection from the wall on the other side and connected it to his TV. I told him not to do that again, because it won't work." Why that son-of-a-bitch. That motherfucker does not know the turmoil that he put me through. I should go over there, knock on his door, and when he limped out to open it, kick him square in the balls. Slam my shoe in them so hard they'll be poker chips between his legs. But then I thought about it, a kick like that might kill the old geezer.

    Well, I'm happy, I can't complain now. But if it happens again, I'm going to the office and report his wrinkled up old sorry ass. As the Cable Guy is working on the floor finishing my connection, Igor walks right into my room, almost crowning the cable guy across the head with the edge of the door. Easy Igor! Damn! "Oh, he's here!" Igor carefully walks into the room. "They came. Did he fix it?" I go on to explain to Igor what the fuck happened . He stood stunned for a moment and then turned to the Cable guy. "I'll give you $150.00 right now to connect me to the Internet," he says. The Cable Guy shakes his head. "I can't. It's all by code." Igor thinks about it. "Can you leave me with the equipment and I'll do it for myself?" The Cable Guy continues working, "All I have are my tools. But you'll still not be able to get an Internet signal even if you could make the physical connection." "Is there any way that you can get me the Internet?" The Cable guy finishes, then stands up. "If I could, I would be a very rich man today." Igor nods. "Try your connection. He tells me. I click on Firefox and up comes the Internet. Beautiful.

    The cable guy leaves. I jump, shit. I didn't tip him! I have no money. Igor, do you have some cash. Igor starts digging in his pockets and produced a handful of one dollar bills. He begins peeling the lettuce. The cable guy is down the hall, but comes back when I call him. Igor hands him five bucks and we wish him well. Then we enter my room and I get to work, setting up my router on the Internet connection. "Do you think you can start cutting people off now?" I look at Igor quizzically while I'm working. What? "You can start cutting out everybody but me. Don't worry, I'll pay you." Igor, I'm supplying the entire building. You're surfing for free, what do you care about who else is riding with you. Just because you want to pay doesn't me that they do. If you want to pay me so bad, why do you just pay me for the free service that you get. Then I thought against that, Money makes people stupid. "I'll pay you," Igor assures.

    Keep your money Igor. I'm not cutting anyone out. "Yeah, you could do that." Get lost Igor. I close the door on him. Damn. I've never met someone so fucking persistent in things that a simple No should suffice. I stood in the center of my room staring, amazed, looking at the YAHOO webpage on my computer. Damn. I was back in business. A calmness struck me then. I smile as broad as a man stealing fresh pussy. I'm a camper that is overjoyed. I just don't know what to do with myself now. I'm stupified.

    The peal of a mail message comes in.

    I know what I'm going to do.

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