“About every two weeks,” admits the wallet, when asked how often it likes to put its owner through the singularly painful experience of having to cancel and reissue all of his credit cards. “More if I get a little bored, or it seems like he’s really going to need those cards, such as two hours before leaving on vacation, just before he goes out for the night, or if it looks like he’s about to have a major health crisis.”
We are under the corner of a carpet that hasn’t been lifted since the great SIN card search of 2010, and the well-worn but coltishly frolicsome wallet is lying extremely still, having lowered its heart rate down to an incredible zero; and smeared a mixture of dust, crushed cheerios, and hair clumps across its cheeks to affect the perfect camouflage.
While we wait the wallet relates the following itinerary of its great escapade, using military hand signals and a collapsable laser pointer:
Last night at 2200: Wallet departs man’s pocket, timing exit to coincide with basketball game becoming a Really Big Deal.
2201: Soundlessly backflips off couch and down to ground, sliding under carpet in single, unnoticed movement.
2330: Man turns in, has no idea where his wallet is and is too tired to care.
0730: Man now frantic.
0800: Man goes to work without wallet, feeling like the only person in world who cannot keep ahold of his possessions like a normal adult. Mother’s voice ringing in ears. Cannot make eye contact with anyone.
1200: Man scrounges lunch from bins.
1700: Man gets home and tears house apart like a ransacking Russian agent when Bond is on his way back with a lady friend, and the microfiche has got to be somewhere.
1730: Bond doesn’t show. Neither does wallet. No microfiche.
1830: Man finished practicing his speech for the banking phone centre people. Calls banking phone centre people.
1900: Call centre people finish lecture, checks man understands this is the last time he won’t be charged the re-issuance fee. Man understands. Cards are cancelled.
It is at this juncture that this reporter takes over the notes, as the wallet has just judo-rolled out from the cover of the carpet, into the middle of the floor, and signalled to the reporter to take over the notes, using the international signal for ‘take over the notes’: lying completely still.
1901: Wallet slides out from under carpet like a streetcar appearing just when you have called for a taxi.
1905: Man see wallet, grabs it, hugs it, asks where have you been, answers own question with it doesn’t matter I’m just so glad to see you. Man hugging wallet. Wallet laughing uncontrollably. Man doesn’t hear. Interesting Factoid: Wallets make no sound when they laugh.
1903: Wallet selects next week’s hiding spot. Still laughing silently.