On the 33

While riding the bus this morning, three men got on at the junkie-halfway house stop. Rough and tumbled, they lumbered to the back of the bus where I was sitting. They didn’t quite look like new recruits to the halfway-house. I reveled in the possibility of who they were. One of them looked like he had just walked out of prison, leaving behind in the pen his Neo-Nazi brethren. He of course was the most attractive with his shaved head and mustache. He was wearing white Dickie overalls and sunglasses which was peculiar on a foggy drippy San Francisco morning. I felt a certain kinship as I too was wearing sunglasses. Much to my delight, they started chatting. Among the topics they covered was a list of employers that would hire felons. Good to know my criminaldar is finely tuned. The conversation soon turned to the best way to off a wife, how to send people in boxes to remote locations and how much alcohol one can drink while still wielding a hammer. Obviously these men weren’t bright. One said, “You should send to her in a box to the Dead Sea. Maybe she’d get eaten by a killer whale.” Um, OK. I have a sneaking suspicion they never covered geography or the fauna of the Israel/Jordan region in Shiv Making 101.