My husband has finally lost his will to live. It involved lots of nagging from me and just a little bit of arsenic in his food every day for the past two weeks. But he has finally given in and bought me a car*.
Since this the nicest car I’ve ever owned** and since I will have to drive this car for the next ten years, I had to establish a few key rules about being in the vicinity of my car:
- Don’t fart in my car. This one is really important. That smell gets in the upholstery and there is no exorcism that can get it out. Plus, ewwww. Who wants to ride down the road trapped in a fart capsule?
- Don’t eat in my car. You could spill, and if the trip is long enough it could also cause you to violate rule number one.
- Don’t bleed in my car. Even if I’m the reason you’re bleeding. Some stains just don’t come out and I’m not driving a car with blood stains on the seats. Anymore.
- No coughing, sneezing, drooling, or any other bodily emission. It spreads germs and if I bleach my car to get your germs out of it, the seats will look like I tie-dyed them to look like a hippie van.
- Don’t touch the windows, especially if it’s cold out and the windows are foggy and you draw a smiley face on the window with your human-greasy finger. How do you even know I WANT a smiley face on my window?
- If you happen to be in a vehicle other than my car, don’t get too close to my car. You could smash into it and if you did accidentally hurt my car, I will run over you in what’s left of my car.
See? There aren’t that many rules***. And they are all easy to adhere to****. The punishment for violating these rules will be swift but painless*****. But don’t violate the rules.
*once I gave him the antidote
**and I once owned a wood paneled station wagon whose interior had been on fire
***this is not a comprehensive list of rules
****if you don’t like moving around a lot or breathing
*****no it won’t, it will hurt a lot