These food drives are a pain in the ass, especially on a blustery, snowy day like this. Door to door, house to house-there’s maybe a 25% chance that the folks residing therein have heard about it. The social workers that put this one together had a thin budget and could only get a minimal amount of coverage on local radio and the barely-breathing flyer that pretends it is still a weekly newspaper. Whatever, the means get me to the end, almost every year.

You see, once all of the donations are gathered-the local businesses pitch in as well-a bunch of us put together hampers or baskets of foodstuffs at the run-down arena that is no longer in use and lay everything out the following Saturday. It’s then that folks in need drop by to pick out the selection of goods that suit them the best. Some pick fresh vegetables (usually single moms that want to put together at least one decent meal for her older kids) or a young family might grab a basket that has diapers, toilet paper, toothpaste and other toiletries. The most popular with the older set is of course the boxed meals (Hamburger Helper, Kraft Dinner, soups of all kinds) that are plain and simple to make. It’s like a buffet for these people. It’s a sort of buffet for me as well.

It was later on in the day and hope was running out for me as I spotted a timid, elderly fella that poked his head through the door to the lobby. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here. The woman that I was chatting with recognized the gentleman and excused herself and went over to greet him. He mumbled a hello as he nervously fingered the ratty toque that he took off his head.

Wanda did her best to put him at ease and escorted him up and down the two aisles of baskets. He of course chose the basic one, the ones that read on the back, “Just add water/milk”. After he thanked her and left I sidled over to Wanda-

-Poor old sod. He must be a shut-in or something-doesn’t seem as though he likes to get out much.

-Chet is very reserved and yeah, he’s a bit on the mousy side.

I nosed around some more.

-He could use a hobby or something, get him out a bit, expand his social circle.

-I think that would benefit him greatly but the only reason he goes out these days is to play in his pool league. That’s his big night.

Fucking. Bingo.

I’d never been in Sal’s Beer and Bowl before. It was a hole as far as I was concerned. The bar itself didn’t have but eight seats and there were only two tables were people could play. There was a large ‘gathering table’ at the back for the players and little two seaters along the wall for couples that couldn’t afford a night out beyond a pitcher of beer and a plate of mozza stix. Chet was seated far in the rear, nestled comfortably, I imagined, under a burnt-out light fixture.

I pretended I was interested in joining the league, asked about the fees, the skill level of the players, about what time the games wound up. Turns out that was about just thirty minutes from now. I finished up my beer and headed out to the car.

Sure enough, thirty-five minutes later a shambling figure exited Sal’s and made his way home all by his lonesome. I didn’t know the exact address where he lived but I did know which apartment block. It’s the shitty-looking one where all the unfortunates made their home. Well, the ones that weren’t on the street. I parked one street over.

He headed towards a copse of trees and I hid around the corner of the building he was going to pass. As he went by I tripped him and smashed his face on the concrete. He yelped before I could put my hand over his mouth. My knife was out in a flash and I stabbed him hard in the back, hoping to puncture a lung and disable him. I heard a voice.

-HEY! What’s going on over there?

Shit! A guy in his forties with a woman by his side started running towards us. I slit Chet’s throat and took off. When I looked back the bystander was bent over my guy and yelling for help. He stood up, made to go after me, and then bent down again. I was in the clear. Sort of.

It was only after I’d made my way out of the neighborhood that I realized I was under a row of streetlights when I looked back. Could he identify me? Or was I too far away?

Shit!

TO THE GAME!

Bears/Rams:

Do you love sloppy qb play? Have I got a game for you! Both of these fools are absolutely brutal under pressure and Goff is pressured the 7th most. Last year Gurleycake stretched the field horizontally by running plays designed to bounce outside. In turn that opened up the vertical passing game and Goff thrived. That just isn’t happening this year. Todd is spitting out 3.5 yards per run and is looking sluggish. Is he ever going to regain his 2017 form? Truthbiscuit has a QBR of 27.2 when in a ‘busy’ pocket. I think Aaron Donald is going to push that pocket right into Mitch’s grill.

Go ahead, it’s all yours.