Gunther came by last night to pick up Ms. Pac Man. He brought some sketchy dude named “Gordo,” which I assumed meant his name was Gordon, but he said it didn’t and I didn’t pursue it any further.
I was really getting into the idea of being a guy with a giant video game in his apartment. Jennifer obviously liked it, so I can only assume it would be popular with most ladies. And why wouldn’t it be? It’s Ms. Pac Man after all. An icon of the women’s rights movement.
I realize of course that I could have just bought it from Gunther. In fact, I wondered whether that was his plan all along. But it’s a little frivolous to spend your money on shit like that and it did take up a lot of space. So tonight I helped the two of them move it out and into a shipping crate.
By the way, this guy Gordo, he’s a real weirdo. Apparently he does “odd jobs” for Gunther and other people he knows. But he didn’t say “odd jobs” like the phrase it usually said, like with equal emphasis on “odd” and “jobs.” He said it like, “ODD jobs,” like not miscellaneous, but actually odd.
I was like, “Oh really, what kind of ODD jobs do you do?”
He said he once drove a “friend’s” car into the dessert and abandoned it there. Then he had a different friend come pick him up. (He didn’t think to have the friend drive out there with him in the first place. Instead, he waited four hours by the side of the road.)
I asked him what was in the car. He said that information was “beyond his pay grade.”
I told him that he could have been charged as an accessory if he was concealing something illegal, like say, a dead body.
He replied triumphantly, “Yeah, and that’s why they paid me forty-five bucks!”
Well played, sir.