The whole fiasco began when I was going to be late for work and realized that my car was out of comission. Dead battery and all that, with no Dad to help me out, and no possible ride-giver on the premises. I walked outside scratching my head and wondering what to do and see that oh, blast, the llamas are out again. But then my resourceful nature kicks in and the escaped llamas came to be more than just a nusance. Holy crap! I thought, I could ride a llama to work! Brilliant, I know.
I walked cautiously toward a friendly looking llama, who obligingly knelt down to allow me climb aboard. We became instant best friends, and I knew this llama would be loyal to me for life. It was a sweet, sweet feeling. What was even better was the ride. I cannot express to you what a joy it was. The overpass on state street was the highlight of the trip. We were going almost as fast as the cars, and it was awesome!
Needless to say, I got to work on time thanks to my noble steed, and I went in very satisfied with myself. I realized during my shift that I needed to go home for dinner, so I ran outside where my car was somehow waiting for me, as was the llama. I drove the car home and forgot about the llama entirely.
Back at the ranch I went inside and talked to my brother and played with his kids, and then suddenly realized that I had to go back to work ten minutes ago. D'oh! So I gathered up a whole pizza in my arms (no, getting a plastic bag or other container did not occur to me at the time) and ran outside to get back on my best friend, the llama. I was glad to see that he had made it home alright, and even more overjoyed at the fact that he was waiting on my porch for me. You know, up the flight of cement stairs and all. He was looking fondly at my face much like this:
It was beautiful to behold.
But then all was spoiled when this old lady started screaming at me about how I was an awful person to be training her llamas bad things. All her llamas somehow kept ending up in East Bay and it was all my fault.
"But my car was broken," I stuttered, "I had to ride the llama, I was going to be late for work! I'm going to be late for work again if you don't let me take him." In my head I was thinking, Can't you see how he loves me?
I don't think this woman properly understood the direness of the situation, though, because she absolutely would not allow me to come near her llamas ever again.
In the end, I asked my brother Kurt to give me a ride to work, and it all seemed to work out okay. But I'm still confused as to what happened to my car after I had driven it home. Ah, well, I guess we'll never know.
All I know is that I will never forget riding down State Street on a llama without a care in the world. It's not weird at all.
