azlk make god laugh

I forgot. God
doesn't want Gary to be "happy-as-a-pig-in-shit."
God has chosen Gary to be a low-rent version of a modern-day
Job and, if Gary's happy meter gets to registering too high,
God seems to feel compelled to take corrective action...
like...

Send In A
Hurricane!

Three weeks ago, I'm just starting to get
settled. I haven't even got all my boxes unpacked from my move
from Miami Beach back to the Keys. The weather man keeps
pointing to a multi-colored snarl on the weather map on the
tube. It's getting closer to Florida.

And closer. And closer.

When it gets to the point where the
"strike probability" of where it hits land is 99%...
that... it will hit exactly where I live, I decide to
scoot. But, my car is in the shop. No cars to rent. They're
all taken. No plane seats to buy so I can fly out. They're all
taken. What's left? A trusty Greyhound bus, that's what. I
dispatch Mongo, my current cohort to go to the Greyhound
station. He phones me, "Gary, the bus didn't stop. It just zipped right by."

The next one zips by too. But, this time, says
Mongo, the driver at least waved. We decide to give up. But,
lo and behold, the third bus does stop. Mongo calls to alert
me to be standing at the side of the road (A1A), he gets on
the bus, the bus then stops for me, and... we boogie to Miami.

At Miami, I try to get another bus but nobody
wants to take the time to talk with me. I go into my Frank
Rizzo routine, scream, yell and terrorize everyone at the
Greyhound station. Finally, one of the Greyhound workers
allows as how there's a car rental place half-a-mile from the
bus station. Mongo and I heft our luggage and carry it out
into the sauna of a September afternoon in Florida, trudge
half-a-mile and finally rent a Lincoln Town Car.