Multi-Level Mark

Last night, I found myself ensconced in the leathered bosom of my rolling sanctuary, hard at work arranging the elaborate stage for my latest Uber caper. Like a mad scientist, I was reveling in the cerebral vibrations that come from designing the perfect passenger experience. The sky outside was pregnant with darkness, concealing all manner of deviant intentions.

In the midst of my frantic plotting, an abrupt rapping on the window caught me unawares. The figure outside was obscured, a mere shadow in the moonless void. I suspected that the caller might be a fellow Uber enthusiast, eager to share in the spectacle I was crafting. Perhaps it was even a neighbor, ready to deliver praises or complaints, alike drowning in curiosity.

Swinging open the door with the abandon of a debauched matador, I was met with an unexpected specter from my past. Mark, the pushy entrepreneur with eyes too big for his bank account, stood before me. The same Mark who had hounded me relentlessly to become his sales lackey. I had imagined him exiled to the nether regions of my history, long since blocked on my phone and forgotten like yesterday’s hangover.

Yet, here he was, standing with the rigid intensity of a cobra ready to strike. Before I could offer my tongue a chance to flail, he unleashed a torrent of words, a storm of accusations.

“You have some things of mine. I need them back,” he hissed with all the warmth of a prison warden.

His insistence brought to mind the cursed cargo he had bestowed upon me weeks earlier. Boxes of wares he had handed over without a whisper of debt or future entanglement. Now, like a mythic sea witch, he was calling in his bounty.

“Your things?” I stuttered in disbelief.

“Yes. My things. I need them back. Where are they?” he pressed on, cold and unwavering.

“I think they’re gone now,” I stammered.

“They better not be. Or you owe me $200 for them. Hand them over now.”

“I’m still unboxing,” I offered weakly.

“I’ll be back in a few days to get them. Be prepared to pay if I don’t.”

He retreated like a dark wisp, disappearing into his vehicle, leaving me pondering the implications of his intrusion. How had he tracked me down to my new refuge? The myriad trinkets he had bestowed upon me were long scattered, discarded, or consumed. What claim had he on them now? Surely this could not amount to $200.

The stress of the encounter washed over me, a tidal wave of dread crashing through my dreams of a vibrant and carefree week. Later that night, I found myself behind the wheel, pouring my tale of woe into the ears of my Uber passengers. They commiserated with shocked disbelief. What could I do to shake this specter from my doorstep? No way was I going to part with $200. I had to find a way to put an end to this madness. The road ahead stretched out in uncertainty, a winding maze of possibilities.

Last night I was inside my car working on setting up some props for my new Uber project. There was a knock on the window. I couldn’t really see too well who it was because it was kind of dark outside. I was wondering if it was either a neighbor to complain about it or to compliment it.

I opened the door and it was that “business man” Mark that tried to recruit me into being his sale person a few weeks ago. He had been contacting me all the time when I last saw him, but I just blocked his phone number on my phone. Since I moved to a new neighborhood, I was pretty sure I would never see him again.

This man who I only knew as being bubbly and friendly said to me in a stern voice (before I could even greet him) “You have some things of mine. I need them back.” Back in the day when I met with him, he gave me a bunch of boxes of merchandise. I wasn’t sure if they were for samples or for me to keep, but he never said I would have to give them back.
“Your things?” I asked… not knowing what else to say.
“Yes. My things. I need them back. Where are they?” he said again in a stone cold voice.
“I think they’re gone now.” I told him.
“Well, they’d better not be because then you owe me $200 for them. So give them to me now.”
“I’m pretty sure they are still inside a box inside my home. I’m still unboxing.”
“I’ll be back in a few days to get them. You’ll have to pay me for them if I don’t get them.” he said. Then he turned around and got into his car.

I have NO IDEA how he found my new home!! Like I said, he did give me a bunch of stuff, but he never said anything about paying for it! I gave most of it away already, and I’ve used the toothpaste for myself. In any case, there was no way that was all worth $200.

What should have been an exciting week for me, has turned in to a stressful one.

I went driving later on that night, I was telling all of my pax about what happened. They couldn’t believe it! I’m not sure what to do, I can’t keep worrying about him showing up at my house. I’m sure not going to pay him $200 though!

Leave a Reply