T’was a cold December night over my first winter break from college. Christmas spirit was in the air as was the spirit of remisnesitence as college children across the nation reunited with friends they hadn’t seen since the muggy days of August. The alcohol was as plentiful as the laughter as old friends told each other how awesome their new university was or wasn’t and how much ass they were or weren’t hauling. But on this fateful night, I stood a sober soul apart from the crowd due to the mono i had caught the previous month (most likely a byproduct of my “Barstool: foam blackout” experience). Despite my inclination to drink, I took the night off for the welfare of my enlarged spleen. But the night went on without me.
Okay so the last paragraph has barely anything to do with the actually story I want to tell but at least the scene is set for another story in another article.
The real story begins when me and a lady friend of were leaving th party somewhere around 1. Surprisingly we had both managed to leave sober, her being the driver, and me with the mononucleosis. And as we arrived at my humble abode i said the ten words that i regret to this day... “you don’t have to drop me off yet you know.” And so began our night of misfortune.
We drove just down the road to a cul de sac with no inhabited houses within 100 feet of the area. We then proceeded to do what kids our age tend to do in the back of cars in abandoned cul de sacs. However, in the middle of our extra curricular activity the christmas music that was playing on the stereo cut out (i was in the christmas spirit alright don’t judge). At the time, i was in no mind set to pay this any mind but little did i know that this cut in audio would foreshadow our doom.
Once we were uhh, done and ready to take the 60 second drive back home my lovely companion attempted to start her engine but was greeted with the dreaded sound of sputtering. And at that moment i most eloquently assessed the situation by proclaiming, “fuckkkk.” You see, we had made the mistake of leaving the engine on because we wanted the car to be warm... It was cold outside alright.
We took the cold walk over to my house where i took the jumper cables outta my mothers car and looked up how to jump a car on wiki how to as subtlety as possible in order to retain any sort of manhood i had in me. We drove my mothers car back over and i was surprisingly able to jump the car without looking too much like Richard Simmons in an auto repair shop. Mission accomplished. A little harm done but really just a minor inconvenience. I said goodbye to my “bud” and got in my mother’s car. At that moment the handle of her key fell off. I still figured I’d be able to jimmy it on without said handle but to no avail. So with my third grade knowledge of cars as my guide i assumed i had killed my mother’s battery by jumping the other car. Retard. But it seemed plausible. This is when shit starts to get...weird...
As I sat in the warmth of my friends recently jumped car and contemplated how I was going to explain to my parents that they're car was dead on the cul de sac down the road, a car drove up and parked near us. My lady companion was sufficiently creeped out by this, especially when the car flashed a bright light into the car. I got out to see if the guy wanted to kill us or naw. The way the man addressed me immediately lead me to believe he was some sort of law enforcement. His undeserved sense of pride and brash rudeness were a clear give away. This conversation is about verbatim as it gets,
"Hey, what the hell you parked out here for?!"
"Uhh sir I leave right near by-"
"no you don't. I lived here all my life on this road and I've never seen you. What the fuck are you kids up to?"
"I actually do live here, like I said I'm right down the road-"
"look were you smoking pot or something because I think I can smell it and I'll have no problem calling a cruiser down here to get you both."
Keep in mind I did live right down the road. And we were by not "smoking pot."
"No weren't smoking-"
"What other reason would you be down here then?"
Begrudgingly I responded, "because we were messing around sir."
"Huh?"
"That's my girlfriend [i lied] we were messing around. Okay?"
He responded as if he had never even heard of sex let alone considered the possibility of such a Heinous act.
"Oh well, alright I uhh... Uhh well why are you still here."
As I begin to tell the story of our hardships, "well you see we're having some car trouble and-" he once again rudely interrupted,
"You know I'm sure you'll get it figured out. Try not to do that stuff on this road again."
What. A. Dick. Thank god I wasn't drunk.
The douchebag junior cop finally drives away and we think the worst of our stress is passed us... Nope.
Just a few minutes later yet another car came down the road. It turns out someone did live in the house that looked rundown and uninhabited and my mothers car was blocking his driveway. Great. Keep in mind it’s now 3 in the morning, and this guy is coming home now in a pickup truck and it looks like his home could be featured on Hoarders or Suburban Sociopaths (it’s on the history channel). I was immediately concerned about the potential character of this seemingly unsavory individual (i.e was he going to rape me before or after he killed me?). Surprisingly enough this man was very understanding and was even adamant about helping us.. which is exactly what a serial killer would do. He asked me into his house to go get some things so he could look at the car, and, against my better judgement, I went inside because I was willing to do anything for this nightmare to end. Upon entering his house I was greeted by approximately 6 to 7 cats. The man went upstairs to get the shovel he was going to bury me with while I waited downstairs being stared at by more pussy than I’d ever seen in one room. How many murders had these felines witnessed over the years? Had they come to crave the taste of human meat? It became clear to me that tonight was the night I died and at this point, the prospect of death felt relieving (I kid but still). To my surprise catman wasn’t wearing his mother’s dress and carrying a butcher’s knife but rather he came downstairs with a powerful flashlight.
Try as he may Catman couldn’t find anything wrong with the car but i thanked him for his effort.It was pushing four o’clock in the morning and I had enough. It became clear that I was going to have to leave my mom’s car at the end of the godforsaken cul de sac. And as I said goodbye to my companion yet again, a gentle snow began to fall. All I could do was laugh, you know the type of laugh where you can tell someone has been completely broken, a joker laugh. My friend who had been glassy eyed and on the verge of tears responded with, “This isn’t fucking funny you ass.” But in a way it was.
I woke up at 8 the next morning to try and explain why my Mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway and what ensued was perhaps the most awkward conversation I’d ever had.
“ I just don’t understand why my car is dead on the end of some random road.”
“I don’t know Mom we were just you know...hanging out down there and-”
“Hanging out??”
Ughh. For the second time in 6 hours i was going to have to explain my sexcapaids and this time it was to my saintly mother.
“You know, messing around.”
“JESUS! What is your father gonna say about this.”
Idk but it couldn’t go any worse than this…
As we arrived at the sight of mother’s automobile she got out of my car and was easily able to turn on the car. Is this a joke? Turns out my mother was the only person who knew how to turn on the car with the butchered key that she had. That whole ordeal that was last night could have been solved with just a few better turns of a key. Regardless I was glad it was finally over and nobody else needed to speak or learn of the incident. Well until I wrote about it here of course.
So what did I learn? I didn’t learn anything that shit sucked. No, I guess I learned, how to jump a car, how to jimmy a broken key, to not leave the battery on for an extended period of time just for warmth, Jr. cops are douches since they wish they had some form of authority but they really don’t so they take it out on young kids who don’t know any better, and not every man who owns more than seven cats is a serial killer, or maybe he just wasn’t in the mood that night. So yeah, learn from this cautionary tale my beloved readers or feel free to read another one of our unfortunate tales.
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