Blanket statement

"I got it!"
I see Hector trying to lift the last box.
"Ahhhh...finally!"
"Piece of shit task #4, check."
We sat on the porch of a grand, old grey house,
set on a swooping hill, moderate wind, high 60s,
almost 100% clear skies, cars whizzing by and
couriers, truckdrivers, mailmen, Chinese delivery men,
children on bicycles, tricycles and skateboards all
painting and harmonizing.
I grab my beer, tilt it up, swig, swig.
"Look at this shit!"
There across the street was a meter maid.
There across the street was the meter maid holding a boot and sliding it on
the blue Dodge Neon's front passenger wheel.
"Wait, is that real?"
Hector pointed further down the street. There stood another meter maid.
BLASPHEMY, we thought. Two on one street? Double jeopardy?
"SHIT!"
Hector dropped his beer (the bottle slipped out of his hand and took a meaningful bounce towards the dirt piled up just a few inches below where the wood of the deck
ends) and he booked down the street, knocking over an 18 year old geek (mp3 player, headphones and all) and disappeared around the corner, clipping the hedge in haste.
I look the other way down the street and I see not one but two tow trucks dragging a Japanese car each away towards fiefdom. As I turned back to my beer, I noticed a sign across the street, "Street Cleaning, Mon and Fri 8am to 3pm."
I glanced at my watch and chuckled at Hector.

get ready for...

..the low-key left..