Pug’s Place

After finishing Feist’s The King’s Buccaneer I checked my email and, lo! a fellow here in Gainesville had purchased my copy of Sahni’s “Algorithms in Java” from Amazon.com’s used section where I had put it up last week. For conversation, we’ll call this person Bob. Bob’s address is here in Gainesville with a number that places it very nearby. A quick confirmation on-line showed this guy lived at the next apartment complex over, and Bob had just placed the order. So I put dinner on the burners, told James to watch the food, hopped in my car and popped over (I didn’t ride my bike because I wanted to be fast, and wasn’t sure how big this complex was).

The Boardwalk Apartment Complex here in Gainesville is a poorly-labeled maze of buildings which are comprised of a poorly-labeled maze of rooms. After a little backtracking I found Bob’s building, parked, and hopped out to find his room. The first pair of adjacent rooms I found had the numbers “5″ and “15″. Yes, they were on the same floor. I scratched my head, turned in the direction of #5 and continued walking. Sure enough, in a cubbyhole around a corner in this dim courtyard strewn awkwardly around loose cobblestones and leafless trees, there were rooms 4, 3 and 2. Room 1 was not in sight. Lacking any other ideas, I fell back and searched around the perimeter of the building where no rooms should have been. Should. Different than every other room in the building, there sat #1, on the exterior, on the far side. I knocked, a young woman answered. “Is Bob there,” I asked. “Bob!” she called, and up strode Bob.

Bob gave me an appraising look, silently querying my intent. I held aloft the textbook, the front cover angled straight toward his head. His eyes, formerly black voids, slowly glittered with recognition as I said, “You ordered this book, correct?” A silent heartbeat later he exclaimed, “Holy crap!” A second later I answered their unspoken question, saying “I pride myself on quick shipping. Also, here are the two dollars’ shipping credit back.” I handed him the book, the receipt and $2. Bob, taking these things, again uttered “holy crap!”

Bob’s lady-friend, whom we will call Clovis, broke the next silence by asking, “Are you a senior?” I replied saying I was a grad student, which ended that conversation quickly. Bob glanced at Clovis and told me, “This is awesome. Less than an hour ago we were discussing whether I should buy this book from a guy in Georgia for a little cheaper, or from this guy in Florida so that it might get here faster.”

“And you had no idea how right your choice was,” I prompted. “Speedy delivery. Leave me good feedback!”

“Holy crap!” Bob stated, and it wasn’t the last time he uttered those words in my presence. No no, boys and girls: Bob knows his favorite phrase and pays it tribute as often as is possible. Sensing that food was close to being cooked back at the apartment, I made to disengage: “I hope Sahni treats you all well, and that the book is engaging.”
“He’s not teaching it this time.”
I gave him a knowing grin and gave him a farewell. Bob and Clovis were ready to get back to their lives after this unbelievable* book service, but before I left, I looked straight into Bob’s eyes with the most piercing gaze I have yet to learn. He froze. I let show a half-grin and commented, “Also, you have excellent choice in DVDs: All four seasons of Futurama; you know your entertainment.” Bob immediately spun around to look at his entertainment center. It was jammed with DVDs, and it would have been highly unlikely for someone to notice the four Futurama jackets among the hundred or so there, all the way across the room. Luckily, I know those jackets’ coloration, and especially their coloration when presented in order, season 1 on the left. He, after a second, spun back around to face me. Clovis’ face was unreadable. Bob’s was somewhere around astonishment, with his lips forming a sort of “o” shape as he finished again crying “holy crap!”. Before either could say a further word I spoke - no! - it is more correct to say that I announced, “farewell!” and closed the door.

The last vision I saw of them was Clovis’ eyes widening and Bob’s silly post-interjection expression.

Another successful delivery.

You can call me The Deliverator.

Well, no, not really.
* I love my ego. *hugs ego*