I’ve always believed there are some really wussy ultimatums (ultimata?) flying around out there. “Marry me or we break up”…”Pee in this cup or you’re fired”…”Get that possum off your head or I’m not taking you to the store with me.” Kid stuff.
I like ultimatums (ultimatae?) that end with, “or you’re gonna die slowly.”
But that kind of ultimatum isn’t always conducive to furthering the conversation and engaging in dialogue and crap like that. Once the person realizes his life is in actual for-real danger, he either just gives in (which is no fun) or he fights you on it. Once the guy calls your bluff, then you have to kill him or you risk losing every argument forever after.
So I’ve been trying really hard not to deliver any ultimatums (oh, hell, go look up the plural of a Latin word yourself!) about my car. This poor vehicle had an ugly beginning anyway once the tornado dropped the entire roof of my house on it and squashed it. Luckily, God has great insurance against all the stuff He does so the “act of God clause” repaired the whole car. Or at least made it pretty again.
As with most cars, the problems began slowly. Water began pouring into the front passenger floorboard any time I ran the air conditioner. Got that fixed. The brakes began making a horrible grinding noise. Got that fixed. My daughter held up some curvy plastic hose she found under her seat and smoke came out from under the hood. Got that fixed. And so on.
Now, the air compressor is making a noise, it’s leaking enough oil to fund a small Middle Eastern economy, and the headliner is coming down. (I swear on all things holy if anyone puts, “Just staple it back up there,” in the comments section, I will email you a virus.) So I’ve been campaigning for a car.
It’s not that I NEED a car, I just need to stop having to drive this one. If my husband would like to invest in servants to carry me around in a litter, that would be fine as well as long as it has trunk space and cup holders. Since I don’t think he’s going to do that and we would have to feed the litter bearers, we went to look at cars last night. We strolled through the darkness after all the salesmen had gone home, running our fingers lovingly on the shiny Altimas and Maximas at the Nissan dealership, leaving smudgy finger prints everywhere. It was exactly like watching porn except you actually got to touch stuff.
Then he announced we would see how much it cost to get my car fixed. What the hell? Why did he drag me down to the dealership only to rip away all hope of the pretty cars? Even better, he announced we would start with repairing the oil leak because that was necessary, but that the air conditioner and the headliner were just extra stuff that I don’t really need.
Now I need to have the car reupholstered to get the blood stains and that weird rotting flesh smell out of my trunk.
Lorca Damon 
I was reading along happily enjoying your story until I got to the second-to-last paragraph where your hubby made his announcement… and steam started coming out of my ears. I’m thinking, OH NO HE DIDN’T! Major Marriage Trauma Flashback! Ex-hubby #1 said the same thing to me, almost word for word… or was it #2? No, wait, I’m wrong, it was 3. Anyway, killing’s too good for him, IMHO. Unless he’s very well insured.
I do refer to him as Dead Husband #1 from time to time!
Just staple it back up there. (I run linux, send all the viruses you want!) 🙂
Guess what else I’m gonna staple back up there?
You’re forgetting a viable option. But before I tell you what it is, let me ask you this: How good are you at hot-wiring a car?
I work in a prison. I can hotwire it AND steal the gas to go in it…without getting caught. It does involve a lot of masking tape and fishing line. The not-getting-caught part, not the hot wiring part.
Swap cars with him for week and THEN see how ‘unnecessary’ he thinks the air conditioner is.
Ugh. I’d love that plan but his car is even worse than mine because he has absolutely no shame. He will drive that one until he ends up giving IT a ride!
Another guy heard from, DH says use “attractive refrigerator magnets on the headliner”……We are in the midst of a kitchen redo. Cars are mere child’s play. BTW what did you decide on the killing part…..just asking.
It’s hit or miss on the killing idea, mostly because my aim isn’t that good when I’ve been drinking.
Ok. drink afterwards……got it.
so far 100% going for you! HAHA, your husband is SO screwed.
eden
But he knew that the day he married me!
man sista, u crack me up to da max, i love spousal negotiation stories !
Yeah. You love the stories. But where is your friendship when I needed help getting him out of the trunk? I mean, talking to him calmly…
What I do when I want something bad(ly), is belt out a song about it, like, “I really need this car!” In the tune of “I really need this job!” From A Chorus Line. You know? And, don’t just sing it once, sing it over and over, especially when he’s watching TV. And when you think you can’t sing it one more time, hum the song. But do it with emotion, Gypsy!
I hope in some small way that I’ve helped. 🙂
I need you to be my stage mom. Make sure I do it right. Of course, my husband is already really good at tuning me out for a variety of reasons.
I will do whatever I can. 🙂
I would go with the litter. No oil leaks possible and readily available cheap air conditioning if you invest in a palm leaf.
Blood stains and weird rotting flesh would still be up to you.
The blood should only be a problem if I beat my bearers to make them run faster. Right?