TIme

As I pulled into the Freedom station on Minnesota Avenue this morning to get gas, things seemed a little off. The two other guys filling their tanks were looking around and a third man jumped out of his truck and ran towards a cop car that was pulling into the lot. Three more city cops and a sheriff quickly followed so I asked the guy ahead of me if he knew what was going on.

“Not sure,” he said. But then another fella quickly brought everything into perspective.

“She just got robbed at gunpoint,” he said.

The gas station I always go to in Sioux Falls was robbed at gunpoint on a Monday morning not long before nine. I had to process that for a minute. I wondered which of the gals was working. I wondered if anyone had gotten hurt. I wondered if the jackoff who robbed the place got away. I wondered what would have happened if I had gotten to the store a few minutes quicker. And as I walked into the store and saw Renee, the gal working, with tears in her eyes, I got a little mad. All I could do was pay for my gas and give her a hug. But I was a little mad because why the hell would someone rob anyone, especially for the piddly amount of cash that would be on hand at that time on a Monday morning and scare the hell out of the nice lady who is just working to get by. It was probably the same jackoff who robbed the pizza delivery driver a few blocks from there on a few days ago.

The irony that he (yes, the suspect is male) robbed a gas station named Freedom on Memorial Day wasn’t lost on me. I’m sure there are many ways to explain away why he did what he did; that was a desperate act. Maybe I’ve watched too many movies, but I expect any robbery, with the exception of a mugging, to be a big heist or something. Make the payoff more worth the risk? Who knows. Two customers took off after the guy and there were tons of cops looking for him. Maybe he’s been apprehended. What a stupid way to risk your own freedom.

It got me thinking about my days working as a paralegal for criminal defense attorneys and thinking about how for punishment, people get time. Time is all they have on the inside. I hear people talk about not having enough time or wishing they had more time, well, at the time. Maybe time means more when we have the freedom to choose what we want to do with it. But then so many of us overschedule and overbreed ourselves out of having any time for ourselves. Which made me think of something my friend, Minnesota Hoops, posted on Facebook: The more time I spend doing things, the less I think about the things I wish I was doing.

Had Hoops tricked himself into happiness? Or was keeping himself busy with his family, work, and hobbies the way to a fulfilling and contented life?

The bitches live a life of simple pleasures, just water, some kibble, play, and a run. Hell, they sleep half the day. If bitches run free, why can’t we?