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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Monday, August 24   >>

TALES FROM A STOLEN CAR NOTHING

*ring-ring*
HUGO: Hello?

GARDENA POLICE DEPARTMENT: Hi, is this Hugo?

HUGO: You found my car.

GPD: Yes. Yes, we did.

HUGO: Please tell me I can drive it.

GPD: There's... no battery.

HUGO: What else "isn't" there.

GPD: Well, you're backseat is gone. The report claims minor stripping.

HUGO: "Minor" stripping?
The next day...
HUGO: I'm here to pick up my car.

TOW YARD: That'll be $93.00

HUGO: But my car was STOLEN.

TOW YARD: But that's the CHARGE.
Minutes later...
HUGO: ...WHAT. THE. FUCK.
And there, by a curb between a tow yard and landfill, sat Hugo's Honda Civic. It had just suffered four days without its humbled and loyal master. Stolen by whom, no one will likely ever know. When Master approached the driver door, he opened it. And it was worst than he could have expected; it was gutted. Gutted like a fish in a seedy factory. All but the two front seats were spared. This wasn't "minor" stripping.

This was automotive rape.

----

Aside from the interior, I was quite surprised when I opened the hood and everything else seemed intact, besides a missing battery. My super expensive after-market wheels weren't even taken. I was not upset anymore. If anything, I was confused.

I'm wondering how that conversation went.
DUMBFUCK CROOK 1: Hey, let's take that guy's Honda Civic.

DUMBFUCK CROOK 2: What do you think we could do with it?

DUMBFUCK CROOK 1: STEAL THE BACKSEAT AND INTERIOR PANELING, OF COURSE! BUT NOTHING MORE, REGARDLESS OF ITS OBVIOUS HIGHER VALUE!

DUMBFUCK CROOK 2: For a dumbfuck crook, you state your stupidity quite eloquently.

DUMBFUCK CROOK 1: Likewise.
Does it run?

...TO BE CONTINUED.