I first read it years ago; never linked to it, for fear of offending decorum...but it is just so dreadfully funny that I couldn't hold out forever.
The story begins, more or less, like this: "... Mary said "mmph?" from under the covers, as I took a second glance out the window. I saw a man hiked up on his tiptoes, leaning against my truck. "He's pissing in my gas tank!" I declared. "What?" said Mary, not quite awake. I ran downstairs...."
Things don't much improve from there.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
2 years ago
Dreadfully, nay, hilariously funny.
Surprised the perp came back to
follow directions and drain the tank,
but perhaps he had a conscience (even
with the bible college shirt).
Thanks for posting ... made my day.
I've had some pretty damn strange days in my life, but I cannot top that. I can't even come close.
I am still left wondering for the motivation for the vandalism. Just a random act 'cause he had a bad day at work?
I really should compile in writing, all my memories of this type of thing that I have seen working patrol and detectives. I fear I have forgotten about some really strange and hilarious stuff already. Just like the cops in the story, when you get involved in something like this, all the other guys have to come by and check it out for the entertainment value it provides.
I have not been able to get past the first sentence. I go into giggle spasms at "whether or not we we were going to kill each other if we co-habited."
The woman I call the ex-Sweety is famous amonng our acquaintances for her artistic, and short, temper. I have gone so far as to refer to her quite nice homestead as Castle Bravo, in memory of an unexpectedly -loud thermonuclear explosion which happened when I was a little kid. Yup, she can be right scary when she blows up. I do still love her, and wish she would return phone calls.
Not to be lovey-dovey, just to settle unfinished business.
WV: minke. Somewhat cool whale.
"coasting into the driveway" Ha! I recall running my two-stroke street bike, a Yamaha DS-7, up to 60 in a 30 so that I could shut it down and coast the rest of the way to the Atlanta Friends' Meeting. (When late.) One does not want to make unwarranted 2-stroke noises when approaching a traditional silent Quaker meeting.
Proof right there that truth is and ever shall be stranger than fiction.
Ok, Bobby, coming back after having read the whole thing. You are a very bad wummun for inflicting that on us, and I don' think I'll ever get any of those images out of my mind.
Shame on you!
P.s. What is really scary to think about, is that I wonder if that actually happened?
If it didn't, it should have.
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