Annnnd there will be another new chapter of The Department this weekend. Creeley fans might want to get ready.
I stood outside the big rusty slide-up garage door on the front of the shed behind the school, staring apprehensively at the scorch marks and dents all up and down the outer walls that made it obvious I was in the right place. It had involved a quarter mile trek across a frozen field to get here from the main building, a wise decision on whoever's decision it had been to put Creeley's shop class as far as possible away from the bulk of Wegotnobusinessreproducing’s children. But I couldn't sort how to get the door open without testing the efficacy of my last tetanus booster, so I kicked the corrugated sheet metal and stepped back to wait.
Creeley's voice boomed from inside.
"Get your fuckin' authorization from Deckard or get lost, weeb."
I didn't know who Deckard was and I sorta didn't care a whole lot. "It's me, Chief said I have to be here."
The door suddenly swung up with a loud grinding creak and Creeley was standing there, staring at me like Sasquatch peering out of his cave at the Jehovah's Witness that just rang his doorbell.
"It's Friday, we got Driver's Ed in twenty minutes."
"Yeah I know, that's what I'm here for."