The Vent

By Brian Petre

This one's worth telling...

So, I'd had a long night out with a couple of coworkers that just happened to be at my local bar. It's a great dive bar that even has Burlesque shows on Sunday nights. I should know better than to talk about places I like to coworkers, I tend to get followers, and sometimes it's just plain unwanted. But this night was different, it was Monday and everyone had the day off, and it was nice to see a few people cutting loose. I was in a good mood by the time I got to this bar because I had spent a few hours prior playing pool at a rather famous pool hall down the road. I'd hustled a bit and won a couple twenties and it reminded me of the old days. My shooting isn't what it used to be, but as usual when the pressure is on, and money's on the line, I shot like Fast fucking Eddie. I even impressed myself. This is the second Moday spent like this, so now it's tradition in this city. Besides, these are the only two bars in Portland that haven't kicked me out yet...seriously.

We'd had some laughs enjoying "Kareoke From Hell" at this punk rock dive. It's done with a live band, so I've accepted it, and secretly enjoyed it. I even caught myself looking at the song list, for some reason I was willing to sing "Under My Thumb" by the Stones, but they didn't have it.

The night had ended and we took a cab back to the hotel. I was drunk. Not falling down drunk or puking or anything like that, but I definately couldn't walk a straight line. I got off the elevator on my floor and started the long walk down the hallway to my hotel room. That's when I heard the voice.

"Fuuuuccckk yooouu...". It was muffled, and almost sounded like a whisper.

"Fffffuuuuuucccckkk yyyoooouuuu". I swear to god I thought it was in my head. I'd never heard, or thought I'd heard, a voice that sounded like this. It was as if I was hearing a strange echo from a voice spoken 20 miles away through a tunnel.

"Fuck you". Now I know I heard something. I was in the hotel hallway, alone, with a clear view of everything and all of the doors. They were all closed. But there was a vent. It was a water heater vent or something, about 3' tall by 2' wide on the wall. I moved a bit closer to it.

"Fffuuuucckk yooouuu, Brian".

The fucking vent knew my name.

What does one do in this situation? I personally had no idea, I had never faced this situation before, so I simply faced the vent, leaned towards it a bit, and said, "What?".

"Fuck you, Brian". Now I'm sure of it. The vent is calling me out.

"Fuck you, Vent". Not very original, but it was all I had.

"Go fuck yourself, Brian". Now there was a problem.

"I've beat the fuck out of bigger Vents than you".

There I am, standing in front of this vent, threatening to kick its ass.

"Oh yeah? Fuuucck yooouu".

"I've got a screw driver in my room, Vent. I could tear you apart. All you're put together with is a bunch of Phillips head screws".

"Yeeesssss, but there's eight of them".

I fucking lost it. I had to walk away. I couldn't stop laughing all the way to my room. Several days later the truth revealed itself. It turns out that somehow some of my coworkers had found their way into the vent room through an access door in one of their hotel rooms. I still have no idea how long they were there before I finally walked by.

To this day I occasionally stop at the vent, when I'm a bit drunk, and tell it to fuck off.

THE OPRAH, DOUGLAS COUNTY CORRECTIONAL FIASCO - Part III

It Takes A Thief, the next generation


Dear Bob,I sent this letter to Oprah and hope to be appearing on her show soon! But just in case I'm not invited to tell my fantastic story, I'm sending you a copy to publish so the WHOLE WORLD can hear it!


Part III,
Just when we had all the beauty supplies which we desired, we heard a rap at the window.

"Say here, say here..." the officer pleaded, "Show yourselves thieves!"

"No, no way. Your gonna step on our heads." Carly pleaded.

"Come now, no ones stepping on anyones head. Now open the door."

"You gonna shoot us?" I called out in precaution.

"I don't even have a gun, I'm just a security officer."

"Are you a telemarketer?" Carly called.

"Am I talking to you two on a telephone?" the officer replied.

"Uuuummmm? Uuuuuuuummmmmmm?" I stammered.

"I think this is a trick question." Carly muttered under her breath. "Don't answer."

"Uuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmm?" I continued, "Why don't you just come in, doors unlocked."

The officer entered and turned the light on. Carly and I stood still, eyes wide open like deer staring at a headlight. For a moment I hoped if we were perfectly still he wouldn't notice us. Then we both turned and ran toward the back door.

"Damn!" The officer complained as he started jogging his 175 lb overweight frame toward the two sprinters, "They got away, I really wanted to step on someone's head."

We got out the back. "You go north toward the Donut shop and I'll head south. That way he can't catch us both. RUN-CARLY, RUN!

I ran and ran, and ran and ran, and ran and ran. Then I ran a little bit more, soon I was across the street and decided to stop and check the distance between me and Johnny-Law. A half second later Carly ran into my back.

"Hey, you were supposed to go north!" I yelled at Carly.

"No way, there are probably more cops at the donut shop!"

"But we got to separate." I explained.

"No way, all the cops are there...you go north!"

"INTERVENTION!!! I yelled. You see, we had learned from the talk shows that if you declare an "intervention" when things get heated, you can calmly sort things out without fighting. So we both sat down on the curb to discuss the circumstances.

I took a deep breath, "I just think we need to separate, to decrease our chances of getting caught. I wasn't thinking about the cops at the donut shop." I explained calmly.

"Well I don't think it's fair for me to take the additional chance when it was your eyelashes that got us in this mess." Carly retorted.

"I just thought that with the cop already at the hairspray shop, there probably wouldn't be any more, besides it was your idea to sneak in and get the beauty supplies."

"A-ha! So you did put me in additional risk on purpose, now we know the truth!" she continued.
"Well, maybe...but..."

At that moment the Cop kicked Carly's shoulder knocking her to the ground and stepped on her head.

"Hey, you said..."

The next thing I remember is being kicked over and seeing the Cops foot coming down toward my head.

Then I woke up here, in the Douglas County Correctional Center for Women. Carly and I continued our intervention meeting here in Jail and after two days of deliberation, we both agreed that I put her at additional risk, and I should have taken the north path.
Thus, I have taken it upon myself to write you this letter.

Please Oprah, if you have a heart, please bail us out. I really do think it's all your fault. After all, you endorsed these eyelashes.

COMING NEXT: ANOTHER 24 HOURS