The Saga of Rod and Debbie - The Rodster

When Rod was a child, his family would often gather around the television on cold winter nights, eating popcorn and drinking soda.   One night, as Rod was taking a large gulp of Grape Crush, his sister entered the room.   As she started to sit, Rod hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and pulled it away.   His sister fell hard on the floor.   Rod laughed so hard that Grape Crush began to run from his nose.   His sister, who had at first turned toward him in anger, now pointed at him and laughed.   Soon, the whole family was laughing.   Everyone except Rod, that is.   Rod didn't like being the object of their ridicule.   They continued to laugh and point at him until finally he could take it no more.   Rod ran outside.   As he stood in the snow, he could still hear them, even over his own grape sobbing.   Rod stayed outside until he was sure the laughter had ended.   It was bitterly cold out and by the time Rod returned, the inside of his nose was frozen solid.   Once his nose thawed, Rod would find that his sense of smell was forever altered and diminished.   As Rod described it, things tended to smell "a little purple".

Rod slowed down his truck as he drove along Arizona highway 143.   According to the radio dispatch, he should be coming upon his "pickup" soon.   The dispatch hadn't identified the critter, so Rod occupied his time guessing what it would be.   He was tired, and he needed something to keep him focused on the job at hand.   His sleepiness was his own fault.   He had stayed up far too late.   The CD had shown up at the office the day after he'd spoken to Debbie.   He didn't know how she'd gotten it to him so quickly.   She must have shipped it right after they spoke.   He spent the night listening to the groovy tunes of Neil Sedaka.   In particular, he played "I Go Ape" at least a dozen times.   He made a mental note to check if that tune was available as a ring-tone.   If it wasn't, it should be - pure genius.

Rod like his job with the state.   It paid pretty well and it seemed reasonably secure.   There were few people who were willing to go out and collect animal carcasses that had been lying in the hot Arizona sun.   In fact, when Rod took a week-long vacation a couple of years ago, they didn't even look for someone to fill in.   The bodies just piled up.   Rod liked knowing that he was doing a job that few others could handle.   He wasn't the only one, but he liked to think that he was part of a pretty elite group.   Plus, he felt fortunate that he had found a job where his olfactory shortcomings were actually an advantage.   To him, a rotting road runner didn't smell that different than a Big Mac, maybe just a little more intense.   They both smelled, well, a little purple.   Rod also liked the fact that his job afforded him the opportunity to wear a uniform and drive an official state vehicle.   In his mind, he wasn't that different than a state trooper.   He was even allowed to keep a weapon in his truck, for those rare occasions when the road kill he went to collect was actually road maim.

Rod thought about Debbie and her comments about his Facebook photo.   He really needed to join a gym and get back in shape.   Time had not been kind to Rod.   Soon after he moved to Phoenix, he discovered a local delicacy, Native American frybread.   Rod was particularly fond of it served with honey and powdered sugar.   It soon became a staple of his diet.   There was a time when he could have eaten anything he wanted without gaining a pound, but those days were long gone.   Rod had to needed to "upsize" his uniform twice in the seven years he'd been with the state.   Even now, he was only able to fasten his pants by wearing them unnaturely low.

Rod's hair had started thinning about four years ago.   It went into full retreat two years later.   Rod had always feared this may happen - he recalled his bald father and uncle warning him it was likely.   He was determined not to succomb to this fate however, opting instead to get hair plugs.   Initially, the cost seemed prohibitive but after much searching, Rod found a place with unbelievably low rates.   He got the plugs and immediately noticed that people were paying much more attention to him.   Rod was pleased with this.   He seemed unaware that instead of being installed in a random, natural-looking pattern, his plugs lay in neat, perfectly spaced rows.   It looked like he was growing a crop of hair on his head and people couldn't help but stare.

It may come as no surprise that Rod hadn't dated much lately.   There were women in Phoenix who were willing to look beyond his weight and some even found his hair kind of cute.   But Rod had another problem of which he was unaware. The faint lingering odor of death and decay seemed to emanate from his very pores.   A hazard of the job, really.   If Rod had been aware of the problem, he may have tried to remedy it, but to him he just smelled a little purple - just like a flower.   Most people could only stand to be near him for a brief time before running off for a breath of fresh air.   At work, they'd moved his office to the basement.   The reason given for the move was that it would be more convenient for Rod since he kept his truck in the basement parking garage.   In reality, several co-workers had threatened to quit if the office air quality wasn't improved.   It was an easy move since Rod's "office" consisted of a chair, a table. a few log books and a telephone.   Rod missed being near the others but he reasoned that he was out in his truck most of the time anyway.

Rod was reflecting on his lack of social life as he pulled up to a mound of something by the roadside.   He needed to make some changes, he decided.   He was too great a person not to be shared with someone else.   His mind drifted back to Debbie.   It was sort of nice to talk to her again.   Why had he been reluctant to give her his home address?   He wondered if she was still working at the same dead-end job she had years ago.   Maybe he should give her a break and invite her down to Arizona - just for a vacation slash trial period.   If she didn't bug him too much, perhaps they could work something out.   After all, he had a steady job and they weren't kids anymore.

Rod jumped from the truck, whistling "I Go Ape" as he strode over to survey the carnage.   He felt good about the possibilities the future held.   The Rodster was back in the game!