| Wednesday January 10, 2007 | ||
| It's an unwritten rule of the road. | ||
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Her car is alongside the road and it's
almost nighttime and the hood is open and she's standing by the
drivers side door and initially I drive past her but then I turn
around.
While I'm turning around I say aloud: "It's pleasure time." I push the button that controls the window of my vintage Cadillac and the window begins to go down slowly and then while it's going down slowly it suddenly drops fast making a thud sound. The last time the window fell out of the track it cost me $175. "Problem Miss?" I say. I'm surprised at how attractive she is. I've helped stranded women before but because they were so damn ugly I've (on more than one occasion) deliberately caused more damage to their car than they had before I arrived (I once shoved a dead wolverine (road kill) into the place where the air filter goes while an extremely ugly fat American whore talked on her cell phone and ate a Subway sandwich. I ain't f-ckin AAA). She says: "It's almost dark and my headlights won't work." I say: "Your headlights won't work?" She says: "When I pull the knob they don't come on." I've parked my car and I'm walking toward her and while I'm walking I say: "When you pull the knob they don't come on?" She says: "I don't want to collide with something." It's an older car and I'm under the hood near the firewall looking for the wires coming out of the headlamp switch and while I'm looking I'm thinking about what she said: "I don't want to collide with something." She doesn't want to collide with something? She's good to look at wearing an airy knee length skirt and a loose fitting low cut top. Her sandy brown hair hangs about six inches past her small shoulders and on her feet are oversized flip flops (she's used lipstick to make her lips appear fuller than they actually are). When she approaches me she raises her hands above her head holding onto the open hood and when she does I can see her bellybutton and she has a piercing and I can smell her perfume and I'm popping a rod and I'm thinking about what she said: "I don't want to collide with something." Too late. You've collided with me honey. When I'm done fixing your car we'll get into the trunk of my Caddy and we'll pull down the lid and we'll pork one another hard and for a good long while 'cause that's the way it is when a man stops to help a stranded woman. It's an unwritten rule. A code. An American standard. She says: "Is it serious?" I say: "I've pulled the wires from the switch and now I'm gonna tape them all together using electrical tape from the handles of these pliers." I figure she'll maybe blow me right where I stand because she recognizes and appreciates my kind of brilliance.
When the headlights come on she says:
"Thank you." It's a code. Kind of a rule of the road. When a man stops to help and his help proves beneficial you must reward him. While I'm wondering how long it'll take me to get her to climax she gets in her car starts it and it drives away. |
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