Jeff McDonald wrote:

so I'm a bit pissed one time, sitting there with my magic Zippo: Click, flick, cool, click. Click, flick, cool, click. Anyway I get bored and toss this hot coal into my pants pocket. Later that night I get home and all my keys (brass?) are bent 90 degrees down the middle and don't work. Fuckin' A! So I got to walmart and get some plyers for $1.79, light the keys up again (I did manage to comprehend what happnened) and bend them straight, getting home at last. Oh, yeah, whoops, I left the (first floor) window open. Duhhh....

When we get there, we lock our pocketbooks in the trunk of my new car and I keep the valet key so we can get back in the car. We go out on the water and it's cold. I mean we're traveling at a x-million miles an hour and I'm fucking freezing my ass off. Of course Shar and this guy are making out under the only blanket and I'm stuck up front trying to shield these gusting winds with my arms over my head...

So this nightmare ride finally ends and we head back to the car. As we approach the car it hits me that the *valet* key doesn't open the trunk. Doh/fuck. So, like, our house keys are locked in the trunk. How stupid. - But wait. The back seats fold down and I figured I could get into the trunk that way. They have these little lock things you pull up and push down on, and when I tried pulling up to unlock the seat, I broke the damn thing off. Great.

I drive back to my home where I have a spare key. However, I'm wondering just how I'm going to get in the house as *my* house key is locked in the trunk. Do I risk ringing the bell and enduring the rath of irate parents who have been up all nite wondering where their daughter was, or do I merely toss a few stones at my sister's window to try to wake her.

While I'm pondering this, the front door pops open and my dad walks out on his way to work. Oh, yea. That's right, it's like 6 AM. "Good morning," he says, "where have you been?" "Uh...," is all I can respond as I look up at him, knowing that this calm exterior masks the molten lava pit of the fire-breathing dragon that is my overprotective father.

I explain about the keys and locking them in my trunk and the broken seat lock and (whisper) um, the boating, and... And I get this look from him that says, "not smart, Sondra" and "we'll talk about this boating thing later" (but what it really meant was "your ass is grass, young lady".

Ugh.

Now about those damn keys. My dad had stood there patiently listening to my trials and tribulations. When I was finally done, he got a little smirk on his face (which also meant that my ass wasn't as grass as he might make it seem), and walked me over to my car. He opened the driver side door and pointed down beneath the seat to a little lever. Upon closer inspection, I realized that this indeed was the trunk release.

Ohhhh.

-s