Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Adventures of THE BEAST

It's official.  Well, it's been official for awhile now, I hate my car.

I hate.

I ran out of gas again today.  AFTER I put seven bucks in that dumb guzzler.

Here's the story:

It was a cool summer evening and a crisp breeze blew through the valley.  As a young girl walked out of her place of employment she received a lovely little text message inviting her to a fire.  Now, this fire was going to be slightly awkward, and because of that she politely declined. About a million texts later she finally gave in, just so she wouldn't be annoyed anymore.  (Text pressure anyone?  The modern-day peer pressure.)

Upon arriving after a long day at work, the girl sat there and listened to all the fun plans the group had for the summer that she wasn't invited to.  This made the girl wonder why she was wanted to badly at this shindig anyways.

She suffered through an hour of eavesdropping (that's what it felt like) and they decided to go get hot chocolate.  Everyone left except for one person, when the group realized the other person wasn't coming they invited that person, but left me out.  It wasn't until the person stood up to go did they invite me.  There wasn't room in the car.

The person stayed.  Then the young girl had some fun.  They roasted biscuits over the fire for about ten minutes until the group came back.  Except it was only one person of the group.  That one person does not like the young girl. At all.  Needless to say, that was when she stood up and excused herself from the group without even so much as a goodbye.

As she was driving home, another awful thing happened.  The dumb gas guzzler ran out of gas.  Finally fed up with the day the girl broke down.  Just like her car had.  She then called the friend who invited her to the fire five times.  No answer.  She sent a text.

"Hey. . . I just ran out of gas. . . Can you help me?"


"Insert address of road here"

There was no reply.  She then called the person again.  No answer.

The young girl was ready to walk home when she received a text from a very angry mother demanding to know where she was.

Sheepishly, she told her what had happened, then fifteen minutes later, a very grumpy mother pulled up and handed her the gas can.

The End.

It's amazing to know who your real friends are.  Just because you've known someone for years doesn't mean they will be there for you.

On a brighter note. . . I saw a shooting star tonight.  It was amazing.  (So was my wish.)

I can't wait for a new day.

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