Two days ago, a lady was at the door. She reached her hand out for a handshake, then announced she represented a carpet cleaning agency. Of course I sent her packing, because one thing I don't like, as is well known, is anything to do with the corrupt, fly-by-night carpet industry. I'm sure I bruised her feelings.
Then yesterday, a distinguished looking gentlemen in a suit is knocking at the door. I'm wondering, What now?, when he announces he's from the FBI and shows his ID and a big gold badge the size of a round sled. I'm suddenly thinking, "FBI? What'd that lady accuse me of? Those darned carpet people!"
I mean, at that point I couldn't think of anything else it might be. Then I had a chilling thought, that time I checked out a VHS tape from the library and dubbed off a copy, when it clearly said, "The FBI investigates and prosecutes every case of dubbing copyrighted video tapes, with no statute of limitations. We'll follow you to the grave and beyond." But I wasn't going to bring up the subject. I was really hoping that tape was one of the ones that was water damaged and thrown away. Let them rummage through the dump looking for it if they want to make a case that bad!
To avert any and all suspicion, I played it real casual, "The FBI? That's something you don't see everyday. And, no, I'm not hiding Al Capone in my garage." As you'll recall, I mentioned that I was reading a book on Al Capone back in January, so that might've raised suspicions. Technically, I was telling the truth, since I haven't got him in my garage.
He took it as a joke, which, looking at it now, I guess I can see that.
So if he wasn't looking for the dubbed VHS tape, and they're still looking for Capone somewhere else, what did he want? It turned out he was simply doing a background check on a guy I didn't know. So I wasn't able to be of much assistance.
Still, here I was with an FBI agent! And that's something! I've always thought I'd make a pretty good crime fighter myself. I've always had the ability to deduce things like Sherlock Holmes. I can't actually see the gas in my car, but with just a glance, I can read the gas gauge and deduce that it's time to go to the bank for another loan.
I wanted him to sit and visit a while and maybe tell me some of his adventures. I would've wanted to know what he had to do to become an agent. I would've pointed out the irony, assuming he needed his own background check, that here he is now doing background checks on other guys! It's a vicious cycle!
But just because I wanted him to stay, that didn't mean he could. He had places to go and people to arrest. So just like that, he was gone, and I was left with the thrill of two things, one, that I'd met an FBI agent, and, two, that no matter what I did in the past, it looks like I got away with it!
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