Lost and Found

During this morning's walking of the dog the Hammer found something in the wet grass she played with for quite some time. I tried to get it from her but she was having too much fun flipping it around and she ran like a politician from controversy when I tried to get it from her. It was a wallet. After she had soaked it with her gob and had to take her first big shit of the day she dropped it back onto the damp grass.

I took a look inside. There was American identification in it and what looked like a flap of coke. When Sonja woke up I told her, "Some jackass American cokehead dropped his wallet in the park. It is a good thing the Hammer did not eat it or she would be higher than the guys on Rock Star Super Nova."

Sonja found an address matching the last name in the wallet and I phoned and left a message. Nobody called back. Then when Sonja was preparing to head out to pick up a few things (the two of us are forever heading out to pick up a few things) I recognized the guy from the identification in the wallet riding his bicycle down the street with a buddy.

I yelled, "Hey dude! (Everybody else talks like they were brought up on Venice Beach - why shouldn't I?) You lose your wallet?" He was busy jabbering away into his cell phone so he did not hear me. I yelled even louder at his buddy. "Hey dude! Did your buddy lose his wallet?"

When the guy on the phone realized I had his wallet his face lit up like Lemmy's in a first rate meth lab. When he opened up the wallet he just about burst into tears when he saw the flap of coke, still slimy as fresh fish guts with my dog's saliva, still inside. He thanked me several times and went on his merry way. George Bush will not look as happy the day Osama Bin Laden gets blown to shit.

Don't let it ever be said I never helped out an American in jam.