BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Okay, so I have this piece of rental property. I could go into this long diatribe about the problems I am having with said property, etc, but that is a whole ‘nother story, and one that doesn’t truly bear exploring in a public arena. Suffice it to say, the property is going to be vacant for a while due to a need for rehabbing that shouldn’t have been needed in the first place… But, I don’t want to digress.

Anyhow, since the property will be semi-vacant – there will still be contractors in and out of it all the time, just no one actually living there for a bit – I went ahead and had a security system installed. Mainly, this is to protect the property against vandalism, but it will also be something that will reduce insurance costs for both future rental tennants and me. So, when you consider the fact that I got a great deal on the system since I was already having the one in my own home upgraded to begin with, and it is going to save me money in the long run, it becomes a win-win situation.

But, on with the “Bad Murv” portion of the tale.

Yesterday, the installer was on-site to put in the system. Of course, I had to be there to let him in, tell him where I wanted motion sensors placed, sign off on the job, etc. So, rather than let him in then run off, I hung out since the installation wasn’t going to be an all day process. Anyhow, while the young man was working he was chatting with me and asked what I do for a living. Well, of course, I told him I write books.

He asked the typical followup question, which was, “What kind of books?”

I gave my standard reply, “Mystery suspense novels about serial killers and that sort of thing.”

Then he asked me if , “I liked it.”

Well, this is where “Bad Murv” happens. Obviously he was referring to the occupation of being an author, but since I had mentioned serial killers I couldn’t pass it up…

Without missing a beat I replied, “Yeah, it’s okay. I used to like it more, but the last time I killed someone I almost got caught.”

The poor guy froze, the power drill in his hand stopped, and he just stared at me wide-eyed as the color in his face seemed to be fading right before my eyes.

After a short pause I laughed, told him I was just kidding, and that I only write about serial killers, I’m not actually one myself. Fortunately, he caught on to the joke and all was good.

Of course, I couldn’t stop there… When I had to get on the phone to answer the verification questions with the monitoring service the young lady told me that it could take up to 4 hours before the monitoring on the new installation was live. After that she asked me if I had any questions.

Being the ka-ka disturber I am, I replied, “Yes, if someone breaks in and wants to kill me within the next four hours is it okay if I just go ahead and kill them back?”

Fortunately, she got the joke right away. The poor girl laughed so hard I thought she was going to pass out.

More to come…

Murv