This story won't make a great deal of sense unless you read the blue g-string story first. I am not much of a practical joker but I do like to pay the odd trick on people.
Taxi drivers in Canberra regularly get messages over their taxi computer alerting them to the fact that someone has lost an item in their taxi. Sometimes the message is to all taxis and often it is to just one particular taxi if the person knew who the driver was, or was smart enough to check the taxi number.
One night I was a little bored so decided to call the base and pretend that I was a customer.
Base: Hello, Canberra Elite Taxis, how can I help you?
Me: Ah, yes, I lost a blue g-string in a taxi, I believe the driver's name was Steve and I was in TX13.
Base: Yes, sir. Do you remember what time you travelled and where you travelled from and to?
Me: Um, yeah at about 5pm I went from Weetangera to Belconnen Mall.
Base: Ok sir, I'll send the message out straight away to TX13.
About 10 minutes later I get a call from Steve.
"I'll get you. You won't know when or you won't know where. But I'll get you."
Thursday 24 July 2014
Thursday 10 July 2014
The blue g-string
Good old Steve in TX13. He is always telling a good story at the ranks. One Tuesday evening at about 8pm, he got a call from one of his regulars who wanted a $40 ride to the city from West Belconnen.
Steve dropped off this fella, whom we'll call Greg, in the city. The trip was uneventful and there was some boring conversation about the weather and how shit Ricky Stuart is as a coach. Steve sort of liked Greg but there was something about him which he couldn't quite put his finger on that he found weird. Not Rolf Harris paedophile weird, just a six pack short of a case weird.
About ten minutes after Steve dropped Greg off, Steve got a call from Greg:
Steve: Hello
Greg: Yeah, Hi, been thinking about you lots lately. You know you've got really nice thighs.
Steve had been working hard on his thighs over six months. He been doing plenty of squats and been doing interval training on the exercise bike so he took it as a compliment.
Steve: Thanks mate.
Greg: Oh gee, fuck your thighs are nice. [Heavy breathing] You know you'd look really hot in a blue g-string.
Steve: Ah mate, do you know who you're talking to?
Greg: Matt, isn't it?
Steve: No, it is Steve, the taxi driver.
Greg: Oh shit. [Beep. Beep. Line dead].
Needless to say, Steve never got a call from Greg again.
Steve dropped off this fella, whom we'll call Greg, in the city. The trip was uneventful and there was some boring conversation about the weather and how shit Ricky Stuart is as a coach. Steve sort of liked Greg but there was something about him which he couldn't quite put his finger on that he found weird. Not Rolf Harris paedophile weird, just a six pack short of a case weird.
About ten minutes after Steve dropped Greg off, Steve got a call from Greg:
Steve: Hello
Greg: Yeah, Hi, been thinking about you lots lately. You know you've got really nice thighs.
Steve had been working hard on his thighs over six months. He been doing plenty of squats and been doing interval training on the exercise bike so he took it as a compliment.
Steve: Thanks mate.
Greg: Oh gee, fuck your thighs are nice. [Heavy breathing] You know you'd look really hot in a blue g-string.
Steve: Ah mate, do you know who you're talking to?
Greg: Matt, isn't it?
Steve: No, it is Steve, the taxi driver.
Greg: Oh shit. [Beep. Beep. Line dead].
Needless to say, Steve never got a call from Greg again.
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