Hey Crackhead Yes, you. You sick fucker. On Wednesday morning I emerged from my girlfriend’s building by U.N. Plaza to find that you had sawed the tops off both the spark plugs on my motorcycle. At the time, I had no idea why anyone would do that. Other than the spark plugs, the bike was untouched. Some kind of bizarre vandalism? Had a fraternity prank gone awry? I had no idea. All I knew is that I looked like a huge douchebag riding the Muni to work in a padded motorcycle jacket and helmet.
Because the bike was immobilized, I got a $35 street sweeping ticket that night. Thursday, I had it towed to the shop ($45), where they replaced the spark plugs and the boots ($50 including labor). They explained to me that “people” – I use the term loosely here – like you break off the tops of spark plugs and use the porcelain tubes to smoke crack. As an engineer and former MacGyver fan, in a way, I think this is kind of cool. But then I remember that I just paid $100 for YOUR crackpipes, and I get angry again.
Crackhead, it was really good to have my bike back, though. I rode home from the shop with a couple of spare sparkplugs and a smile on my face. I figured the next time I parked at my girlfriend’s place overnight, I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to my bike as a peace offering. Overall, I wasn’t that upset. Despite having to ride the bus for three days and dropping a hundred bones at the shop, I had gained some fascinating knowledge, a new set of spark plugs, and a pretty funny anecdote about how ****ed up you are, and how our paths once crossed briefly in the night.
But you couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie, could you Crackhead. You couldn’t just stay in on Friday, watch Letterman through the window of a home electronics store and then call it a night. You couldn’t rest on your laurels. Two porcelain sparkplug crackpipes just weren’t enough for you, was it Crackhead? You just had to come back for more.
This morning, a scant fifteen hours after I rode it out of the shop, I found my motorcycle violated once again. This time you only took the right one – maybe you were having an off night. At least this time, I had a spare spark plug and the tools to fix it – or so I thought – having ordered a 73-piece toolset from SEARS.com last week. But no, the spark plug socket in my new toolset was for American sparkplugs. So I had to go down to the neighborhood Ace hardware. They had an 18mm socket that would fit over my sparkplug, but it was for a 1/2″ drive ratchet. My toolkit only has 1/4″ and 3/8″ ratchets. So I had to buy a 1/2″ ratchet along with the socket. Even though the clerk took pity on me and gave me the senior citizen discount (I’m 25), it still cost me $22, all told. Now, you might say that I should have just gotten a 3/8″-to-1/2″ drive adaptor instead of springing for the whole ratchet. And to that, I say, “Shut the hell up, Crackhead, I’m not finished. And besides, I was eventually going to buy a 1/2″ ratchet anyway, so it’s probably not worth it to take it back now.”
OK, now I’m rambling. But the point is, Crackhead, that you have done me wrong. Now, I get that you love crack. That is totally understandable. I’ve heard it is really fun, at first, and quite addictive. What I don’t understand is,
YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD. WHY DON’T YOU OWN A CRACKPIPE?
I am an engineer. Do you ever see me shaking down bums in the Loin for a calculator and slide rule? No, you don’t. Because engineering is the main thing I do, I went and bought myself a calculator. The main thing you do is crack. How do you get by without a crackpipe? The other crackheads must clown on you non-stop. I mean, the ****ing saw you used to saw off my sparkplugs is probably worth five or ten bucks. Why not sell or trade it for a crackpipe? You haven’t put much thought into this, have you?
Please, Crackhead, please don’t tell me you sold your crackpipe to buy crack. Even a stupid crackhead such as yourself couldn’t possibly be that stupid.
I’ve decided that taping crackpipes to my motorcycle would be tantamount to appeasement. You have crossed a line, Crackhead – specifically California Street. You have come onto my street, and you have desecrated that which I hold dear. You have stolen from me, and you have caused me to spend the last half hour writing this post instead of engineering ****, and it is conceivable, if not likely, that my boss could find out about this and fire me. I am hella pissed at you, dude.
Here are my options as I see them:
1. Write a note saying that I have coated both of my spark plugs in rat poison and tape it to my bike at night. You can thank Tim for that one, and it was his idea.
2. Don’t write a note, but coat both spark plugs in rat poison. This is probably closer to a punishment that would fit your despicable crime. I’m sure this is super illegal and ****, but it’s not like anyone is going to miss you, Crackhead. Don’t fool yourself.
3. Wait in an alley near my bike armed with my new stainless steel mirror-finish Ace Professional brand 1/2″ drive socket wrench, my 18mm spark plug socket, and my searing rage. It’s pretty heavy and well balanced. I am not a large man, but I am angry.
In conclusion, Crackhead, why don’t you do both of us a favor and buy yourself a crackpipe? It will both enhance your crack smoking experience and save me a lot of time and felony assault charges. Think about it.
*** If you are not the Crackhead that took my spark plugs, please disregard this posting ***
Updated 17 Nov. 2019