I am backing up from a Pizza Hut parking spot when I feel my rear bumper crunch into the signal light of the 2008 Toyota Tacoma parked behind me. I am distracted by two youths attempting to ride skateboards in front of me. They are pisspoor athletes and one guy is six plus foot tall and his lanky frame looks ridiculous trying to maneuver his small board. He wears jeans, a jean jacket and a farmer's cap. Good God man, if you're going to play the sport get the proper wardrobe. I am attempting to estimate when his out of control board will crash into the hood of my car and then boom - I will be talking to my insurance company real soon. And the only thought I'm having concerns my large sausage pizza, extra cheese, and will it be cold.
Out of the restaurant door comes the owner of the car looking like the Episcopalian Republican he probably is, his face frozen in strong frown lines and peering at me like I was a particularly ugly insect. He brushes past me and opens his door and returns with a small zippered notebook. I realize he is a terribly efficient person judging by the paper tablet, several pens including a yellow magic marker and he has been prepared and waiting for this moment all this life. I hand him my insurance card and he begins writing and after a couple of minutes I ask if I could see his card, why should I have to stand and watch him write. I have a small notebook in the car but all the pages are are filled with children's drawings and I jot down his particulars around the pictures of dogs and racing cars.
I want to go home. I just left a water park and I am wearing no underwear or socks, shoelaces slapping the cement and my hair is plastered against my wrinkled forehead.
I just need to pay closer attention and not be distracted by dweeb wannabe skateboarders. Sorry, I ruined your trip Mr. Johnson, I say and I think to myself things could have gone worse. Backing into some one's car on this end of town could have resulted in all kinds of scenarios that might involve pimps, gang members, pirates, lunatics or skeezes looking for insurance fraud schemes or maybe all of them at once.
Out of the restaurant door comes the owner of the car looking like the Episcopalian Republican he probably is, his face frozen in strong frown lines and peering at me like I was a particularly ugly insect. He brushes past me and opens his door and returns with a small zippered notebook. I realize he is a terribly efficient person judging by the paper tablet, several pens including a yellow magic marker and he has been prepared and waiting for this moment all this life. I hand him my insurance card and he begins writing and after a couple of minutes I ask if I could see his card, why should I have to stand and watch him write. I have a small notebook in the car but all the pages are are filled with children's drawings and I jot down his particulars around the pictures of dogs and racing cars.
I want to go home. I just left a water park and I am wearing no underwear or socks, shoelaces slapping the cement and my hair is plastered against my wrinkled forehead.
I just need to pay closer attention and not be distracted by dweeb wannabe skateboarders. Sorry, I ruined your trip Mr. Johnson, I say and I think to myself things could have gone worse. Backing into some one's car on this end of town could have resulted in all kinds of scenarios that might involve pimps, gang members, pirates, lunatics or skeezes looking for insurance fraud schemes or maybe all of them at once.
1 comment:
Matt needs to get a real life..
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