Organ Harvesting

Last Saturday, Leigh and I took a little trip. Let me just say it had nothing to do with hiding a body. Seriously. Artist friends of ours, Jason Metcalf and Randy Kintz, were doing a signing sponsored by Creator’s Edge Press and we thought it would be nice to go say ‘hi’ and socialize.

Again, let me stress that there was no body. Nor did we have two shovels, a pick, a machete, and a large, waterproof tarp. We especially did not have a backpack full of stakes and a half-gallon of holy water. None of these things were present.

One thing we did have was my new GPS. I purchased it especially for outings like this, as Leigh and I are what you might call ‘direction impaired.’ In layman’s terms, it means we get lost on the way to the bathroom. We always leave a good 30 minutes early for these things, just to account for all the time we’ll need to drive slowly in circles, trying to figure out where we are.

But I digress.

So there we were, with my new, shiny GPS. Leigh was driving and I was navigating, which gave me an opportunity to play with my new toy.

If you’ve never seen one, the screen shows a little truck (‘cause I have a truck) on a purple route with directions at the top. It would display the directions and I would dutifully repeat them, thus enabling Leigh and I to not miss the city by ten miles (which has happened).

However, I suspect mine might be broken.

Oh, it started off well enough. It would display things like ‘Turn Left onto I-405 South.’

“Turn left onto I-405 South,” I would say.

“Gotcha,” Leigh would respond.

After about half-an-hour though, the messages got a little strange.

“Leigh doesn’t like you,” it displayed.

“You don’t like me,” I repeated.

“What?” said Leigh.

‘I like you a lot. I want to be your best friend.’

“The GPS wants to be my best friend,” I repeated.

“How wonderful for you,” Leigh said. He started sorta leaning away at that point.

‘Leigh is just holding you back. You should take care of him.’

“You’re just holding me back,” I said. “I should just take care of you.”

Oddly enough, Leigh didn’t respond, though he started waving at the Highway Patrol car in the lane next to us. The Highway Patrolman waved back.

‘If we kill Leigh and harvest his organs, we’ll be rich.’

“Apparently, I need to harvest your organs.”

“Huh?”

‘Especially the liver. It’s the tastiest part.’

“Especially your liver. It’s nummy.”

“Dude! You’re really starting to freak me out!” Leigh said, swerving slightly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “But my new GPS is possessed.”

“Ah.”

So, yeah. I managed to wind up with yet another evil electronic device. I think I’ll introduce it to my keyboard and see if they hit it off. I just hope none of my other electronics goes bad.

And seriously, this was a social visit. There absolutely was no body. It was not wrapped in a tarp and thrown into a shallow grave and then dosed with holy water so that it wouldn’t rise again. That positively did not happen.

That night.

Cheers,
-Jason