The case of my strange neighbors.
Not another case of creepy staring guys, or gomicats or even people delivering door-spam at odd hours. No, this is something else.My neighborhood is an odd mix. It’s got an elementary school, a tourist hotel (complete with sports massage center), a bajillion restaurants and convenience stores…
…and rather many forklifts.
Yes, these kind of forklifts:
(The sharp-eyed among you will recognize the building behind them as the galbi restaurant from the “snowy walk” photos I posted last month.)
I’m not entirely sure why they’re always about, but I suspect businesses like the construction supply company outside my window may have something to do with it. That can’t be the whole answer, though.
See, those guys have their own forklift, so they don’t need the assistance of one of the neighborhood gang. And it’s a pretty big gang. On any given day I can count at least seven of these things within 3 blocks of my apartment. Every so often I’ll see them moving about, but I’ve yet to see one of them carrying anything. They’re either parked on the side of the street or tooling about aimlessly – as far as I can tell.
I suppose they might be sneaking down to the cyberchurch at night, paying their respects to Megatron in some unholy ceremony. (They’re probably pissed at the lack of a forklift among the Constructicons who combined to form Devastator.) I mean, forklifts can mess some stuff up with those blades, and their only representation in the whole of Transformers was as a stupid Minicon named “Liftor?”
Oh, you bet they’re pissed.