_I parked the car with the ease of a trained professional, and likewise, with an assassin's glance, I quickly counted the heads of the potential witnesses in the vicinity._

![Screen Shot 2018-10-23 at 3.07.38 PM.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmWGqeZMJarUoP7VKWnKGatvvWiDNSm1WjPL4AZH9dz8aZ/Screen%20Shot%202018-10-23%20at%203.07.38%20PM.png) It didn't matter, nobody on the street would know who I was. Now, to approach the main entrance, but not too quickly-- I would just ease right up to the door. Those doors looked to be made of strong glass, and while I was confident that anyone wearing a tuxedo could get past the first guard with just a nod, I wasn't wearing a tuxedo, and of course my infamous nod was the last thing a low-level door guard wanted to see. The entry was well lit, and as I walked in with the wind, I noted immediately that there was no guard next to the door. Curious, but I know how these guys think, and this can only mean one thing-- _they knew I was coming._ They'd heard about my deadly nod, and so why waste a good henchman at the front door when you can use him more effectively later on?

_A License to Kill_

Trained in a remote monastery and fully seasoned in the art of esoteric warfare, a simple nod of my head is known as **'assault with a deadly weapon'** on six continents. Given such a reputation, I wouldn't have been surprised to find the building evacuated after I so blatantly parked the Aston Martin out in front of the entrance. It was quiet. Not _too_ quiet though, that would have been too cliche, and somewhere I could hear the perpetual chorus of Brewer and Shipley's _One Toke Over the Line_ rippling out from some unseen sound system in the building. I was reminded of a segment from The Lawrence Welk Show featuring a rendition of that song that is just plain surreal, which featured a couple of nice young folks singing a song about Jesus and glorifying the smoking of too much illegal _marihuana._ That may have been the day that my own calculated life of crime began, my innocence fractured as reality and absurdity merged in a single three minute performance on a nationally televised broadcast.

_Where was everyone?_

Finally I heard someone whistling another melancholy tune, and out of a hallway broom closet came a janitor, who genuinely seemed surprised to see me. He explained that only the cleaning crew was around today, since it was Saturday, and that any business I might have there would likely have to wait until Monday. _Saturday?_ No wonder the traffic was so light on the way here! No wonder there was no line at the coffee shop this morning. Seeing the disappointment on my face, the janitor asked me, _"So, you can come back on Monday then?"_ Still unsure of how I had gotten the days mixed up so badly, I looked at him, and without thinking, I nodded. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8tdmaEhMHE _{_'One Toke Over the Line'- The Lawrence Welk Show, 1971_} --------------- _image above thanks to Wikimedia Commons. The story is fiction, and I can't try to blame marihuana or Lawrence Welk for my own carelessness_ ![IMG_4721.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmdi858CJ8WPn2Y4iQ6pEqbwdiEosp8xAtsPr982rTEkmR/IMG_4721.jpg)

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