As I pulled up to the Belmont Village Apartments, there was J. T. Bumblebee standing by the pool, his beat up old blue Coleman cooler sitting next to him on the concrete and a huge brown grocery bag tucked under his arm. Rolling up to the parking spot in back, a black 4-legged monstrosity of a dog is laying right in the middle of the only open spot. J. T. screams "STOP! STOP!" As I hit my brakes hard, the rotors grind me to a jerking halt. "DAMMIT BUMBLEBEE" what the f*#k was that! J. T. drops the bag and rushes out to the slobbering mutt. "What is that?" I asked. "It's my DAWG MAN, my DAWG" J. T. responded. Go get your bag MAN, I'll grab the f*#king cooler, lets get this shit in the car and go grab K. C.. Hell, I still gotta pick up Corman. J. T. shuffles slowly towards the car, bag in hand, head down muttering "It was my DAWG MAN, it was my DAWG". I tossed the cooler in the hatchback of my 78 Pinto, jumped in the drivers seat, turned the key, and floored it as we took off for the front of the apartments. The damn dog howling as we pulled away. We could still hear him as we rounded the corner of the front of the building. When I pulled up to the last unit at the end on the front, there was no K. C. in sight. Damn him! I know he's up to something. What the hell could it be this time!! Out runs a scantily clad chick, her shoes in her hand. She jumps into a corvette convertible sitting right next to us, smiles at us and then tears out of the complex like a maniac. I look back at J. T. Bumblebee, shaking my head, there he is with bread, Spam, and cheese spread all over the back seat making sandwiches for the trip. I look up at the sky and say " GOD, why me?". When I glance back at the Apartment entrance, out walks K. C. in his underwear and a goofy smile to go with em'. He asks "is it time to go to FREEHOLD?" "Yeah Man, yeah!" I said. K. C. struts back into his apartment, as I pound my head on the dashboard. The next thing I hear is Bumblebee asking me "would you like a sandwich?" After waiting 15 minutes in the car, K. C. finally comes out, throws his duffel bag in the hatchback, parks his ass in the front seat, and we take off for Corman's.
Damn, it's already taken a freaking half hour to get the three of us in the car, I thought to myself. I hope Corman's got his shit ready to go. The traffic on Gulph Rd. is so screwed up on this Friday morning. Everybody and his Mother must be on the road today. Finally, I spotted the sign for the Abrams Run apartments. Thank f*#king God, were here. As we pulled up to his place, there stood Corman on the sidewalk outside, dressed in white linen from head to toe. Wearing a pair of John Lennon shades, with lemon tinted lenses. The silver medallion hanging round his neck, blazing in the Sun as he stands there holding his leather bag. I look at K. C. as he looks back at me, and screams, "it's the Messiah himself"! "Who the hell does he think he is?" K. C. says. As I throw the car in park, Corman steps off the curb and takes his bag back to the hatchback. After he closes the back, he walks around to the driver's side and opens the back door. Bumblebee looks up and says "would you like a sandwich? Corman leans over and brushes the crumbs off the seat as he says "Zeno of Elea would say...the quickest runner can never catch the slowest, since the pursuer must first reach the point whence the pursued started, so that the slower must always hold the lead". K. C. and I scream in unison " Get in, shut up, let's go! We've gotta get to Freehold!" Ah, 10 minutes later we finally make it to the highway, bound for the Garden State.
to be continued......
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