A stolen car, a home invasion, and an iced tea in the face

Some stories simply must be shared.

Before getting to the heart of this week's rant – which will likely have to wait for a subsequent column – allow me to attempt to do justice to another story. In fact, three other stories.

These are not my stories, mind you. They are my friends' stories.

We'll call these friends Bill, Brian and James, because, well, those are their names.

Strange, almost bizarre, things occasionally happen to these guys. Separately and collectively.

Three stories – not one of which I can do justice to – come to mind.

In sequential order, here are a few of their more bizarre stories.

* * *

Brian

One afternoon several years ago, Brian woke up (he was a late sleeper), drove to work, entered his place of business and declared his present state of hunger with a single word: "HONGRY!"

It was an early afternoon ritual. It was as predictable as "partly cloudy" in an Ohio weather forecast.

The "HONGRY" pronouncement was often followed by the taking of food orders and a drive to Frisch's, Dairy Queen or some other establishment. With orders in hand, Brian would hop in his car and return forthwith with something from said restaurant's bill of fare. Everyone was happy. Life was good.

Until…

One particular afternoon, Brian repeated his daily routine. He woke up. He drove to work. He growled "HONGRY." He took his co-workers' lunch orders. He returned to his car. Or at least to the parking space where he'd last seen his car.

He came back to work. He laughed at what he perceived was one of his co-workers' better practical jokes. He asked: "OK, Dudes, where's my car? Seriously."

His co-workers were confused. They hadn't moved his car. It had been stolen.

Brian likely wasted valuable time by blaming his co-workers and laughing at their impressive sense of humor.

Eventually, he contacted local law enforcement and reported that his car had, in fact, been stolen.

Did I mention that a lot of Brian's laundry was in the back seat of his car? No, I guess I didn't.

Apparently, the individual who decided he needed Brian's car more than Brian needed Brian's car quickly got busy and started tossing Brian's laundry ("wardrobe" seems a bit excessive to describe Brian's clothes back then) along the highway.

This made the recovery of Brian's car a little easier as the thief left a trail for the cops to follow.

My lasting memory of this story is one of Brian pleading with his innocent (this time) co-workers: "Seriously, guys, where's my car?"

* * *

Bill

Have you ever put in a long day at work, made the commute back home, and walked into your house only to see a total stranger – barefoot and shirtless – cooking his dinner in your kitchen? Probably not.

Well, Bill has.

As he relates the story – in true Bill fashion – after putting in a long day and arriving at home in the evening hours, he noticed that someone seemed to be cooking. Which was strange, at that hour.

I can only imagine the shared look of surprise on the faces of Bill and his "guest," when they met, as Bill walked into the kitchen.

"The guy was cooking a steak directly on the stove's front burner and cooking fish sticks and French toast in the microwave," Bill explained.

"As politely as I could, I asked the guy: "WHAT THE &$#@! ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

Bill went on to tell me that the intruder responded, "THIS IS MY &%#!@ HOUSE!"

Bill, having recently moved to this particular house, and Bill, being Bill, paused and looked around, just in case HE was in the wrong home. He wasn't.

Bill promptly ejected the intruder, who apparently wanted nothing more than a quiet, relaxing dinner – albeit in Bill's house. The intruder returned a while later and asked for his shoes and fish sticks. He didn't mention a shirt.

* * *

James

The most recent of these stories happened to James. He shared this with me over the past weekend.

James is a very talented musician. He's good. Real good.

After performing before a packed audience last week, James found himself in a predicament. On his way home from work, he had the misfortune of running out of gas. As the Blues Brothers can attest, even great musicians run out of gas every now and then.

Not far from his Dodson Township residence, James decided to walk the few miles home. This was in the early morning hours, around 2 a.m. With cellphone in hand, James shared the ordeal on Facebook in real time.

He posted anecdotal tidbits about his day, about how his friend had taken his credit card to Indiana, about how he left his car's hazard lights on – which drained the car battery – and about how he had to make a second trip to Hillsboro to purchase gasoline.

Finally, as he was returning to his fuel-deprived car, somewhere along Route 135 near Anderson Road, a car approached. It slowed. Good Samaritans, perhaps. Perhaps not.

James thought, "Great, someone's going to stop and give me a ride."

Well, not exactly.

Yes, the approaching vehicle slowed, but only enough so that one of its immature, law-breaking occupants could toss a large cup of iced tea from a fast-food joint smack-dab in James' chest. A direct hit.

"Talk about humility," James said. "In one day, I went from having hundreds of fans singing my song lyrics with me, to breaking down and being (messed) with by a carload of jerks."

Life, Karma, the Holy Trinity, take your pick. They all have a way of keeping us humble.

I like to think that's a good thing.

In a recent sports story, Cincinnati Reds MVP first baseman Joey Votto is quoted as telling Hall of Fame baseball writer Hal McCoy, "You've seen all the greats from the Big Red Machine. If I ever get out of line, or have an attitude, please let me know."

Brian, Bill and James do not have attitudes, even though they are all young, intelligent business professionals. They do have, to their credit, wonderful senses of humor. I would pay cash money to listen to their respective stories on the stolen car, the home invasion and the iced tea in the face.

If you are fortunate to know them, you are fortunate indeed.

Thanks, guys. I'll let you know when the laughter stops.

Rory Ryan does his best to avoid people like Bill, Brian and James.