Step by Step

(Fiction)

The number one mistake people make is panic. You can't panic.

Not that I don't understand panic. How easy it flicks on. Once it starts, it spreads like fire, and before you know it, you're making mistakes left and right. Mistakes mean a trail. And a trail will lead straight to you.

But you won't do that.

The number two mistake is going down on someone too close to you. See, I don't care how careful you are. They've got this space-aged shit these days. Lights and scanners and dogs trained at NORAD or something. If you go down on someone right where you live, you're a goner. Game over. Fucking seriously. No one gets away with that shit. I mean, come on. If the person is close, you have to explore other avenues. It's that simple. That's the deal. No use whining about it.

But I'm not close.

Distance is good. But too much distance is not good. When you have to go far, you leave traces. Like tolls. Credit cards. Security cameras. You want to be far enough not be on anyone's radar, but close enough to cover it in two hours or less. Back roads, of course. I know you're not stupid enough to pay tolls and get your picture taken.

I won't cover the merchandise. I have faith in you. That part will come natural. If I have to tell you, then I'm wasting my time. So once you have the merchandise, that's when the panic will want to strike a match and light your ass. That's when you need to buckle down and hold on tight to your calm. After you get the merchandise, your emotions are going to want to boil over. You're going to want to scream, laugh, cry, vomit. But it's not over. The real work is just getting started. Remote is good. You can't go too wrong with remote. But water...forget it. Just forget that shit right now. Water is not your friend. Think about it. Water flows all over the planet. Put a thing here, and water moves it there. But I don't have to tell you that.

Go with remote. But not just remote. Here is where people make another mistake. Remote does not mean inaccessible. It just means not-visited-very-often. You're just playing the odds if you pick any old wide open space. Put some effort into it. The work will pay off. Believe me, I know. Low, tangled bushes are the best, in my opinion. Stuff you'd never think to walk through. But what most people don't realize is that you can get down and drag through. No one else would have a reason to crawl in there.

Drag your merchandise deep in. Don't skimp on that part. If you can time it before a good rain, that's even better. Lastly, don't underestimate what it will take to dig. I even suggest that you do it first. In the pre-planning stage. This isn't like planting posies in the backyard. You've got roots, rocks, clay, and other geological shit I can't even pronounce. Take a week. Get a short shovel. Go deep. This is where you need persistence. You're not going to make six feet. Not in the back country. But shoot for four at least. The blisters and blood are well worth it. They heal.

I'm sure you can fill in the rest. (Fill in...get it? Ha! Get it?? You always loved my sense of humor.)

I watch TV from eight to midnight every night. I don't lock the front door. My neighbors keep to themselves. They're too stupid to notice anything short of a volcano erupting in their front yard anyway. (Wasn't there a volcano that formed in Mexico after some farmer noticed some smoke venting in a field? But I digress.) Now all you have to do is go step by step.

Step by step.

I'm tired. And I know you're hot to settle the score.

You know where to find me. Between eight and midnight. Maybe I'll even be napping. I nap a lot.

Yeah, I'm tired. It's a crap-infested world anyway.

Hey, you want to know something? You know what's worse than being alone?

(Yeah, I know you don't care.)

Being alone so long you're even sick of your own pathetic company....

So that's it. See you soon.

Peace out.

Fucker.