The Viking discovered my car had a flat tire this morning. This is odd because I haven’t gone anywhere in the last 24 hours that one might expect a tire hazard, like a construction site. And it isn’t even a nail or a screw that any one could pick up anywhere – it’s a very large staple except it’s width is about 4 times as thick as a regular construction staple.
The Viking showed me the staple still stuck in the tire and I immediately suspected that SOMEONE IS OUT TO GET ME!
At first, I thought it was the asshole who lives on the corner because…..well…..he’s an asshole and it would be just like him to position a big staple right in front of my car. I could definitely see him dressing up in black pajamas and sneaking through the alley in the dead of night, large staple in hand. But there are flaws in this theory.
- He has, so far, restricted himself to trolling our back alley and calling the By-Law Officer about the smallest of things.
- This is a genius move that most people would probably chalk up to bad luck. Damage was done, it’s no one’s fault, these things happen. They wouldn’t immediately suspect foul play; they would have to experience several random ‘bad luck’ situations before they would become suspicious. But I’m not ‘most people’ and I know there is some fuckery afoot.
No…..it’s not The Asshole because he’s more of a straight forward complainer kind of guy and he doesn’t look at all like a genius. The person who put that staple in my way is obviously cranky about something and who knows if the whole thing will escalate? Today it’s a flat tire, tomorrow it could be a bag of dog shit burning on our front step.
Speaking of dog poo, maybe it’s that person who leaves his/her dog’s shit (at least I hope it’s his/her dog’s shit) on our lawn!
This whole he/she – his/her thing makes things too complicated. So let’s just agree that it’s a guy. Why a guy? Because no woman would go to all the trouble of sneaking around in the dead of night to put a staple under my front tire when she can go to the apothecary and get some poison. Apparently poison is a womanly weapon.
Back to the topic at hand: Maybe he has seen me jumping off the sofa every time I see a dog stop to sniff the lawn and now thinks it’s too dangerous to carry on pooping activities in my general area. He will need to change pooping venues OR start picking up the poo, which might make him cranky enough to dress up like a Ninja, sneak down our alley in the dead of night and place a staple in front of my tire. It seems kind of flimsy, though, because who would get that bent out of shape because he has to find a new yard to poop in? Then again, who would put a big staple on the ground in front of my tire? We’re obviously not dealing with a stable personality.
OH! WAIT! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner! There is an Englishman renovating the house next door to us! He seems like a suspicious kind of guy. He will only talk to The Viking and seems to hide every time I come out of the house. I’ve seen tantalizing glimpses of him through the slats in the fence when I have to go out the back. Maybe he saw me through the fence slat and wants to warn me off?! What if he buried his wife in the back yard? That would be exactly the kind of thing an Englishman would do! I’ve seen movies……
Or, what if he’s decided that the British should take over our neighborhood? Maybe he’s the front man getting things ready for the first wave of colonializers. It would be India all over again!! My flat tire is just the beginning of the fuckery he has planned to force us out of our home so other Englishmen can move in! Soon, ‘Marks and Spencer’ and ‘Selfridges’ will take over our little grocery store and small businesses. We’ll have to start pronouncing things wrong….like Dianer and Leftenent. Good GOD! What if we have to start eating things like ‘Bangers and Mash’?!
The Murderous Brit should check his history and see what happened the last time the English had to deal with the Vikings (and the people they sleep with)…..Lindesfarne! You will have your hands full with us!
Back to my tire problem.
The Viking took the front wheel off my car and replaced it with the spare. He came into the house and said that I would have to take Tina the Truck to my Doctor’s appointment. I don’t mind taking Tina even though she has a very big ass and doesn’t fit in parking lots really well, but then he changed his mind, said that I could drive my car with the spare tire on it.
- The spare tire is fugly.
- I can’t drive as fast.
The Viking assured me that the spare tire is just fine to drive on the highway at highway speeds and I needed to get over the aesthetics of the spare.
Me: “If I have a terrible car crash because of the spare, you will come to get me, right?”
Viking: “You have AMA.”
Me: “I know that. It’s just that I either have to sleep with the guy OR pay him, right?”
Viking: “You don’t need to pay him because it’s free with AMA membership. And don’t sleep with him either. I’m the only mechanic that will accept that sort of payment from you.”
Me: “The guy at Home Depot accepts that as payment, too.”
The Viking: ……..
Me: “Okay. He’s the lumber yard guy and he can’t take payment anyway. So it won’t be hard to not have sex with him.”
I ended up driving my car with the fugly spare tire and I did manage to get to the Doctor and back home again without having a terrible car accident or having to sleep with anyone either.
So, if the murderous Englishman next door was hoping that a flat tire would send us packing, he failed miserably. We are made of sturdier stuff than that. While he is plotting and planning his next move, The Viking and I will be digging out our shields and axes and growing beards and drinking from horn cups. This. Will. Be. Epic!