Trip Down Weird Ass Memory Lane – Part Three

I have epilepsy, so I don’t drive. What this usually means is that people think my parking space is a free for all.

In one of the complexes I lived in, this was the case with a young man who owned a large Hummer. I stuck several notes on his car, but he persisted.

Then on night, I arrived with a guest and the Hummer was in my parking bay. I told the friend I was with to park behind the Hummer and wait for me.

I was wearing a V neck pajama top that made my cleavage look rather appealing, but I was not concerned with what I was wearing. I marched up two flights of stairs and banged on the door of the culprit.

When he opened it, it was a haze of cigar smoke and Heineken holding men, probably about 10 or so of them.

“Who is the walking testicle that owns the Hummer???”

A man stepped to the door and leant against the frame all suave like, gazing at my cleavage. “It belongs to my room mate.”

“What is your room mate’s name?”

“Paul…  you want me to get him?”

“Hay, douche, my eyes are up here. Unless you want that Heineken and your ass hole to become intimate I suggest you focus on my face.” From the door, I dangles my house keys, and yelled: Hay Paul!!!  I am the crazy ass bitch who has been sticking notes on your car. CLEARLY those aren’t working. How about I engrave a message on it this time??  Shall we race? And with that, I bolted down the stairs.

I could hear the panic behind me and the yelling of names. I got to the hummer and my friend looked horrified that I had a trail of men behind me all freaking out. Keys in hand I raised my arm to jam the key into the side door…

PLEASE!! I wont park here again!! I swear!!!

I don’t believe you.

Fuck woman! I promise!! You can’t do that…   there are witnesses who will all know it’s you.

Not if you park here again and I don’t bother giving you a head’s up first. I gave you my cell phone number on one of the notes and said all you had to do was ask. You can save that number under “Psycho Bitch” okay? Because I promise you, I will track your friends cars down too, and I WILL scratch all manner of filth deep into the paint. Do you FINALLY hear me, asshole??? ”

Yes….  you are mental…  I hear you. Fuck.

You have NO idea. Now move it. And you idiots…   your friend Paul seems a bit dim. Next time you have a get together REMIND him…

My friend made way for the giant shit pile to move and pulled into my parking bay looking like he had just witnessed a murder.

“He is right you know.” he said. “You are mental.”

I know.