El Burro Volador

Well, apparently it has taken me too long to get here, but it all ends today.

“Can I see your ID badge?” asked the security guard.  There was no attached “sir” which experience has taught me is a bad sign where security people are concerned.

“I don’t have one, but-”

“This entrance is for employees only.  Use the service counter entrance.”

I gave the security guard an appraising look.  Evidently he was a good enough reader of body language that he picked up on the whole “swift kick to the groin, then race down the hallway” strategy I was piecing together, because his hand moved purposefully toward the taser holstered on his right hip.

“Alright,” I said, backing toward the door, “I’ll go.”

The next moment I was standing outside Wesco again, and it was definitely the low point of the whole ordeal.  Then I realized it was my turn to pick up Clem from the Collie-seum.  Dejectedly I began trudging toward the moat.

If the route into Wesco is intended to discourage visitors, navigating it in reverse after having been foiled by the security at their actual location is utterly demoralizing.  I doubt many people have the gumption to ever come back a second time….

Which I bet is why the security guard was so surprised when I came barreling back through the door an hour later,  15 pounds of squirming terrier clutched tightly to my chest with one hand.  I’ll give the guy some credit – he was awfully fast on the draw.  He already had his taser out by the time I flung Clem at him.

Unfortunately, he also had a very steady hand, and managed to taser Clem when she was still in midair.

I call this “unfortunate” because anything which delivers a smaller charge than the electric chair only gets Clem excited.  I strolled slowly down the corridor toward the service counter, knowing that any additional security personnel would be busy for a while.

And so it was that at long last I stood in front of someone who was willing (albeit grudgingly so) and able to sell me a thousand watt light-bulb.  He was a little confused at first when I walked around the service counter from behind him, and he did falter sometimes when the sounds of people running in fear or being dragged from their offices by a wild animal got especially loud (I thought all was lost when the fire alarm went off, but I was able to convince my paint-befuddled interlocutor that it was just my cell phone’s ring tone), but I was able to get him through the checkout process in the end.

Finally, I carefully accepted the proffered replacement bulb, shot back the double bolts securing the service counter door, and stepped outside.  Clem was waiting by the moat, using the taser to fish for piranhas.

“Good girl,” I said, reaching down to scritch her with my free hand.

“Wanna go get some hamburgers?”

Clem snorted, then began to butt her head into my knee.  Hard.

I took that as a yes.