When Earl speaks, I listen - Act II
Saturday night I arrived at The Earl mere seconds after Paul had slammed the passenger side door of Penny the Tour Van with the keys locked securely inside.

I went to the front bar to ask about a slim Jim or at least a wire hanger. They had neither, but pointed me to the homeless guy who hangs out front. He had gotten out of jail just days prior for busting into vehicles.
He seemed enthusiastic although felt compelled to explain to me repeatedly that he no longer engaged in this sort of illicit behavior. I assured him that I believed that he had been fully rehabilitated by the state's fine penal system, but if he could bust into Penny before the band went on in a half hour, there was a crisp twenty in it for him.
I know the gentlemen gave me his name when we shook hands on the deal, but truthfully it escaped me because I was trying to figure out if he had a very large gap in-between two of his front teeth or if there was once a very small tooth in there. The mystery was consuming me.
He promptly went to work with a wire hanger, a Swiss army knife and something that looked like an oyster shucker.
After 15 minutes he admitted that if he was trying to actually steal something out of this car, he would have abandoned it by now or broken the windows - this was beyond his abilities.
We thanked him, gave him a five for his trouble and watched him look suspiciously around for police while he ditched his tools of the trade into the dumpster. I dialed triple A and resigned myself to missing the show.
The AAA guy showed up quicker than I expected and while I stood in the beam of his truck headlights and watched him struggle with the vent window latch, I listened to Paul's voice eke out through the brick wall to the club. It became quickly apparent that even to a seasoned professional Penny would not relinquish her chastity so easily.
He finally managed to pop the vent lock to the sound of the next to last song in the set. I grabbed up keys, phone and wallet and rushed into the club in time to see the last song. I dangled the keys like a victorious battle flag and from the stage, Paul asked for round of applause from a subdued crowd for the American Automobile Association.
It was like someone sank a putt.

I headed for the black door marked employees only and found myself once again in the sleazy yet appealing embrace of the Earl's green room. Fortunately this time, I had the good sense to borrow a camera.

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