My Car

Anyone who knows me knows that I have the world's shittiest car for a person like myself. It's gaudy, loud, and does nothing but draw negative attention. Its utilitarian purposes are mostly fine, but its electrical system needs work, the muffler may very well not exist, and the damn thing couldn't reach 60 miles per hour while falling. So beyond its day to day use, my vehicle isn't anything precious.

I was waiting for the cable guy to finish fixing my internet connection this morning, goading him by saying things like "When will the porn be back?" and "is the porn ready?" and "if the porn isn't ready soon, I'll just masturbate the the roadrunner logo on your uniform." Unaccustomed to this type of encouragement, he briefly retreated to his van. A few minutes and some crashing noises later, he returned, telling me my ridiculous car was involved in an accident.

I walked out to the front of my apartment to see the line of vehicles there all out of whack like British teeth. A car full of joyriding teens had plowed into the car parked next to mine, shoving it up onto the curb, with the rear bumper having scraped all across my back passenger side door. Frankly it was the best possible kind of damage my car could endure, since I never walk on that side of the vehicle anyway.

After surveying the scene, the cable guy finished his business inside and we exchanged a hearty thumbs up as he left. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the police to arrive so we could get some insurance stuff taken care of. I scowled a bit while standing around, pretending to be angrier than I really was since it would seem weird for someone in my position to not give a shit. But I really didn't. I just wanted to Google terrible things.