a number of experiences or achievements that a person hopes to have or accomplish during their lifetime: making this trip is the first thing on my bucket list.
A bit morbid to think about but let’s face it, we all have a bucket list. Some great thing we want to accomplish or place that we want to go. An experience that will somehow add to our legacy which, again, let’s face it–is the only thing we get to leave behind.
So far I still need to cross off getting a black belt in karate (got close once) and I’ve yet to drive a stock car at 180 mph but all in all, I ain’t doing to bad.
I’ve found the love of my life, raised two great kids and have been fortunate enough to be a part of an industry that I absolutely LOVE. I really don’t have a job in that regard, No, I have a passion.
There is one thing on my list however that I just accomplished and I’m so excited to share it with you. As you may know, (if not here it is) one of my passions is to write about all my experiences, my thoughts and even some of my opinionated views in my blog www.pestcemetery.com. What I didn’t realize is that this would lead to my writing of books. Perhaps you’ve read my collection of stories in my first book Tales of the Route. This collection of true tales are assembled in my first foray at a published work. As happy as I was with that–I always had a story brewing in the back of my mind (for over 10 years now) that I wanted to put out, that I wanted to express, that somehow I needed to tell. Well, at the insistent urging of loved ones and the constant nagging in my brain that could only be quelled by putting ink to paper— I give you– The Find – Where what you discover is only half the story.
The following is an excerpt of the novel that has been fermenting inside me for close to a decade. A very fast paced, action packed story about a ‘bug guy’ in an adventure he never really bargained for. It’s one that any pest control professional is never really far away from and one I’m sure, all pest pro’s have thought about at least as a possibility of happening to them.
Three blocks from the house, a police cruiser met Daryl at a four-way stop. They faced each other. A new round of sweat popped out on Daryl’s forehead and palms. He held his breath and waited for the officer to take his turn at the intersection.
The cop eyed him and waved him on; Daryl had been first at the stop sign. Daryl jabbed his hand in the air as a quick, “Thank you” and started to drive forward. “Don’t screw this up. Just act normal,” Daryl mumbled to himself. His foot felt like a brick made of pure lead.
He knew he was pressing on the gas, but the truck seemed to hesitate. It felt like he was driving through a large pool of tar. Don’t look, don’t look, Daryl thought as he drove across the intersection, attempting to look normal, simultaneously trying not to make eye contact with the police officer but also making every effort not to look weird or suspicious.
Daryl knew that the shortest route home was still an 8- mile drive. He had to make it without getting into an accident or getting pulled over. As nervous as he was, Daryl felt that either one of those things could happen at any moment.
At the next intersection, a black sedan with dark tinted windows made it to the stop sign at the same moment Daryl did. Unable to see the driver, Daryl hoped that he or she was going straight across, but you never knew drivers these days as the practice of using a turn signal was becoming a lost art. Just to be safe, Daryl waved the driver forward in hopes that they would drive on and forget they ever saw him in this neighborhood. It was hard to go unnoticed in a pest control truck with huge, vinyl insects and your company name and number plastered all over the sides.
The black sedan sat there and wouldn’t budge. Daryl waved again.
The driver of the black sedan hit the gas and peeled away from the stop sign toward Daryl. With a sigh of relief, Daryl pressed his own gas pedal and slowly made his way through the intersection.
A loud ring suddenly filled the cab of the truck. Daryl jumped so hard that he almost went off the road and into a culvert. It was Tisha. If he answered the phone, she would hear it in his voice and immediately know that something was wrong. If he didn’t answer the phone, she might assume that he was still underneath a house. This seemed to be the safest option for him, so he let the call go to his voicemail.
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