The Envelope

I'm blading home along 14th Street after work today and as I pull up along a car I see something on its roof. It is way back, about to slide down the rear window and more than likely down to the road. Upon second look I see that the object is a file -- apparently called an expanding wallet.

The car is rolling along, but rather slowly due to the driver fighting traffic and attempting to take a right hand turn without running over pedestrians. I'm on the right hand side of the car, so I grab the "wallet" and knock on the rear window. He looks quickly over his shoulder and says something I can't hear. I try showing him the expanding wallet. No dice. I give another quick tap, but he has found a gap in between the people in the crosswalk and gasses it forward. I roll up to the driver's side and knock again. He now looks panicked like I might want to drag him out of the car and rape him or something and pulls away with the quickness. I had thoughts of giving chase, but decided I had already gone beyond my call of duty.

I was about to just drop the expanding wallet in the street where it would have wound up if I didn't come skating along, but then started thinking about what might be inside. Important documents for a big trial? Plans for murdering the President? The cure for cancer? A whole bunch of weed?

I decide to hold onto the loot and check out its contents upon my arrival home. I'm praying for something important along with a business card or something so I could call the owner up and tell him I have his shit, but because he is such a spastic driver and skater hater he'd never see it again.

I get home, take off my bag, my hat, my jacket. I grab the expanding wallet and take off the elastic cord that is holding the treasure safe inside its confines. I open the top flap and peer inside ... it's the fucking New York Post. That's it.

What a rip off.