My new career, unsuccessful writer, heh heh.

I've been writing, I just haven't been writing much here. So.......... What I'm going to do is post some of the things that I've written elsewhere, and see if y'all like them. This is mostly cab stuff, only perhaps fictionalized or polished or what ever.

This first one is about what is sometimes called, 'A heavy load'

Eleven (Former title - A Few - )

Last modified: Thursday 4/22/10 I pulled up to the green awning at The Essen Haus and counted eleven. They'd had a great time, were going to continue whooping it up at the next bar, and weren't going to be separated. Only got one cab? We'll all squeeze into it, unless you don't want to take us. All or none. If it hadn't been so slow. The money had been terrible that night. "Ok, guys, I'll take all of you, but here are the rules: Rule one, you have to promise me that when I stop, you'll get out of the cab fast. Rule two, you have to pay me in advance. If a cop sees eleven clowns rolling out of a cab, that's six bozo's too many. The ticket for extra clowns is a hundred a head. It's $4.00 for the ride, plus ten extra passengers at a buck a head. Plus tip! A big one! Who's paying?" A tall fellow with a southern accent handed me a couple of twenties and said keep it. Then he quickly announced "Shoddie!" I had to smile. Where did this guy learn how to speak Wisconsin English? He sure did say 'shottie', funny. The woman behind him immediately complained that he wasn't entitled to shotgun simply because he paid, but it was already too late. A lady around thirty jumped in the front seat first. The fellow who paid next, then the woman who had been hanging on him sat on his lap, draped her arms around him, and went back to what she'd been doing. Both rear doors opened up, and the other 8 people started piling in. I was standing outside the cab supervising. I would compare it to telling cord wood where to stack itself. A small woman hopped on the two people sitting in the center of the back seat. A sixth pushed and squeezed in directly next to the driver side door, then one of the two remaining people slammed and jammed that door into their friends. The final two people headed in through the my door. They were pulled over the seat into the back. They laid across everybody and hung their feet out the open drivers side window. It was funny to look at. The cab was filled to the ceiling and hanging out the window, the bottom pair of shoes were on the outside and pointed up, the top pair of shoes were on the inside pointing down. I stood back and admired the load for a moment. The car was all the way down on the springs. They were all laughing and giggling. I never have a camera when I need one. I was almost to The Plaza when we passed a cop going in the opposite direction on State. He turned his head looking at the feet hanging out the window, and I knew I had trouble. I looked in the mirror, and could see him pulling up to make a U turn by Paul's Club. Luck was with me, I got the light at State and Frances. I whipped around the corner, pulled up in front of The Plaza, leaped out, and ran around the cab pulling open the doors, and pulling people out. Just as the last one of them was going through the door into The Plaza, the squad car pulled up behind me with the cherries going. I reached into my pocket for my license, and held it out for the officer. Normally, they'll tell you to get back in the car, he didn't. He snatched the license out of my fingers and demanded, "How many people did you have in that cab?" "Ah, a few", I answered sheepishly. "How many is a few?", he demanded? "Well a few." "There were more than five people in that cab, now how many were there?", he again demanded. He was pissed! For some reason, he needed me to tell him how many. I stuck with a few, thinking I'd get as small a ticket as possible that way. Each time I told him a few in some small varied way, his face got a little redder, but it wasn't going anywhere. Finally he told me to get in the car and wait. Usually it takes at least 10 minutes for them to come and either hand you a ticket or tell you how lucky you are that they're not handing you a ticket. He as at my window in less than ninety seconds. "Don't ever let me catch you doing this again.", he said, "Now, get out of my sight!" I put my turn signal on, dropped it into drive, and pulled up to the stop sign at Gorham. I couldn't believe my luck! I couldn't believe that guy didn't give me a ticket. I guess he needed a number he didn't have.