Dude, Where's My Car?

I don't know what happened.

I know that I left it right here.

Alright, so I've only been working at this new job for a couple of weeks now. I know that it's stressful and there's a lot of things to learn but that doesn't explain the complete and total memory loss I must have suffered about halfway through my shift.

It was simple enough. I'd been moving some equipment between two of the company's offices. I'd made a couple of trips from Lincoln to Omaha in the morning and all was going pretty well. It was getting late so on my thrid trip back to Lincoln I stopped off at this little road-side diner to have a bite to eat. It was a decent enough place, a little pricey for what you got but what the hell food is food and I was hungry.

I finished my meal and got back on the road. Again, everything went fine. I pulled up to the rear entrance to start unloading some equipment. Finished that, locked up the car and went about putting everything into storage. No problems there and to be honest it's been a pretty uneventful day.

The day moves along, I've finished my paperwork and it's almost time to go home. I take the elevator back downstairs, check to make sure I've locked everything back up and exit through the rear door -- the same as I came in.

So, I'm standing outside at 3:00pm on a warm and sunny summer afternoon and that's when I notice it's gone. Some cocksucker had stolen my fucking car! I couldn't believe it. I looked around, checking for broken glass, a screwdriver a coat hanger, anything that might have been a clue to what had happened to my car. I didn't find a thing.

I walked around to the front of the building to do a quick scan of the parking lot there, thinking that maybe it was just a complete and total lapse in memory.

God I hope it isn't Alzheimer's!

No luck there so I'd resigned myself to using the payphone to call the police. The desk clerk took my information and said they'd send an officer out to take a report and have a look around the area since it had only been an hour or so since I had last seen the car.

So there I am standing at in the lobby, chatting with the receptionist, and recounting my tale of woe when I see a large truck (what they're now calling sport utility vehicles) pull out of the parking lot. As this hulking black monstrosity makes its way to the road I see out at the very far edge of the parking lot a car that is strikingly similar to mine.

I walk outside and am greeted by the Lincoln Police Officer who has just arrived only to walk with him over to what is, in fact, my car.

The officer was pleasant but was obviously not pleased to have been called out by, what I'm sure be believed to be, a senile old man. Regardless, he smiled as I checked the car over for any visible damage and to make sure nothing was missing or had been tampered with. After I gave the OK he went on his way ad sent me on mine.

Again, I have no rightly idea how in the hell my car moved from one side of the building to the other but I suspect it's probably the same shit kids that keep ringing my doorbell and running away in the middle of the night.