1.04.2006

Happy Make Sure You Have a Full Tank of Gas Day

Because I've been a long time fan of Girls Are Pretty, I sometimes think of posts I'd like to see them write. But they never do write those posts I want them to. So I thought I'd try an homage.

My first effort is titled

Happy Make Sure You Have A Full Tank of Gas Day
You should have known something was different when you woke up and heard the plates on the wall in the kitchen, the ones your grandmother had to smuggle out of Europe with them taped to her body, falling to the ground and smashing because of the noise and vibration.

You should have known better when you looked outside your window and saw an endless sea of motorcycles slowly cruising by your house, the thunder from their combined motorcycles proudly rattling fillings and breaking grandma's smuggled plates all up and down the street.

But you didn't or wouldn't. You had that report to complete for Mr. Johnson, who's head resembled a penis more and more with each passing day as the last few hairs succumbed to the inevitable male pattern baldness that had taken the locks of his brothers and father years before and only by ritualistic application of a secret hair growing concoction (Rogaine, mineral oil and toe jam) had he maintained for as long as he did. And his losing his hair made Mr. Johnson angry, well, angrier. So you wanted to get to work early and get that stupid report done as quickly as you could in the hopes that he would pick on someone else that day.

And so, when you got in your car and backed it out, you were too lost in your thoughts and backed into three of the biggest, ugliest and meanest looking bikers you have ever seen. It didn't help that they were parked at the end of your driveway blocking you in but you didn't even see them at all.

As they got back up and dusted themselves off, they noticed that you had also knocked over thier beloved and prized motorcycles. At which point, they began to approach your car with looks of distinct menace in their eyes.

In a panic you stomped on the accelerator and drove right through the fence seperating your yard from Mrs. Dingle and her begonias. You sprayed begonia bits and dirt all across your yard as your car's tires fought madly for purchase and the bikers were running back to thier bikes to give chase.

When you hit the road after leaving dark brown streaky furrows in Mrs. Dingle's lawn, you push even harder on the gas pedal only to notice the glowing red E next to your gas gauge.

Ten blocks later, as the bikers are pulling you from your car through your window, you wish that you had stopped on the way home last night and filled up the car because you never know when you're going to have to outrun some mean Bikers of the Apocalypse.

Happy Make Sure You Have a Full Tank of Gas Day!
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