So I have this buddy who runs an escort service. No, uh, not that kind. It’s the kind where you accompany big trucks on long journeys, and you get paid asstons of money to do so. It’s like delivering pizza, except your pizza weighs several hundred tons and your tip comes in several-thousand-dollar form. All in all, it’s a pretty sweet-sounding gig.
Anyway, he wants me to get in on the deal. He has another car he’s preparing, and another four or five big jobs coming up. So, in other words, all I have to do to make a lewd amount of money is drive a nice car for a few thousand miles.
Did I mention that the cars are all old cop cars?
They also have big light-bars on top, GPS, emergency-band radio, and fucking sirens. If someone sees me in that thing, the next time I go visit Edna, I’ll get shot in the face. Then again, it would be exciting to just roll up on some dilapidated crack-house with all the bells and whistles going off.
Assuming I survive all that, it’s rumored that I’ll be pulling in a large amount of cash for very little manual work. All we have to do is scout routes (take pictures and record GPS coordinates), then come back and lead big trucks along them.
It’s not brain work, there’s nothing glamorous about it, but it pays well and I’ll get to travel…in a car that I have to drive, following an eighteen-wheeler for fifteen-hundred miles all the way to fucking St. Paul, MN, or some place. Anything illegal I do, because of the constant state boundary crossing, could easily become an FBI type thing. Not that I’ll be intentionally doing anything illegal, but dumb shit does indeed happen.
We’ll see how it works out.
**Edit** Also, this is my 100th post on WordPress. I might go back through them all and search for terms that could have been a little too offensive, then pool them all together for a brand-new blog update.