Power went out the other night and I had a nice little adventure. Started out bland, I jacked a car, took her for a spin, headed up through the hills to a quaint convenience store on a hill. Looked peaceful enough so I mosied on in and shoved my hot piece up beneath the clerk's nose and demanded the money. With trembling hands, the dark brown sod complied, and filled my bag with dirty bills. Small haul, nothing big, maybe 500 bucks but not bad for a smiling gas station on a balmy day. Of course, second I walked out the door that shaking douche behind the register called the cops and I heard sirens in the distance. I should have iced him. Whatever.
In the car I jumped, tires screeching, I burned rubber tracks across the asphalt as I floored it through the mountains and valleys and canyons, dodging flashing metal beasts and saps that got in my way. I hit a few, maybe, ran over some shrubbery, drifted a few turns sideways as we tangoed through the twisties until I lost the last pig when I crested a ridgeline... And there I spied it. A dusty dirt road. Bam! Nailed the power slide and I was off in natural splendor, so I cut the throttle and rolled with the faint crackles and pops of pebbles beneath my tires and came to a halt, hidden in the trees.
Stupid cops, they were persistent, but I heard them roll by several times until their sirens grew distant and they were gone. Whew. Only one problem--my car was made. They knew my make and plates and I had to ditch this sled like a hooker with a bad case of crabs, so on foot I went. Not far though. Soon thereafter I stumbled across a mountain bike of all things! A few patsies were milling about babbling of centennial hotties like they were goddesses and they weren't worthy. Stupid beta male kids. Chumps. All of them. So I waved a socially awkward greeting so as not to alert them, moseyed on over to those two rubbers on a frame, and before they could whine like the babies they were I was sailing over a grass crested berm and off into the bushy jungle.
What a downslope!
By the time I made it back into town the sky had cracked and rain had begun to fall. I swerved through puddle slicked streets in the late afternoon sun, glinting golden flecks of fireworks as I made my way home.
"Honey, I'm home!" Right? Nah. After I stashed my new friend in the garage I noticed two tennis rackets leaning on the wall next to the front door. Cool, coach was there, only when I went inside, guess who I found hopping around like a monkey in animal print speedos on my soiled matrimonial bed? With the missus.
Son of a beeyotch.
But that's a story for another day. Let's just say his... house, his home, his entire world came crashing down around him, later that evening. I survived another run, and didn't do anything stupid. Dough is dough.