And this morning started off so pleasantly…til the first text at 6:45AM…
Jay: “WTF is WRONG with you? WHY did you GLUE pictures of metal chickens with jester hats on them all over my truck? I can’t get them off. What have I done to you? I let you keep everything. I haven’t bothered you. Why did you destroy my truck?”
FASCINATING. All the more so because this is NOT my handiwork.
Me: “Can you send me a photo?”
Jay: “WTF???? What are you talking about? It’s probably on fb already.”
Me: “I know. But it’s not on MY page, and therein lies the problem.”
Jay: “My whole truck needs to be repainted. You used GLUE. I’m going to send you the bill and you are going to PAY or I will sue you so bad you’ll never feed that kid again.”
WHATTA GUY, FOLKS! Does anyone wonder why I left this man?
Me: “In the immortal words of Shaggy, “wasn’t me”. Also, I have an alibi.”
Jay: “You have an alibi for something you didn’t do and I didn’t tell you when it happened? You didn’t do this like you don’t have my camera.”
Me: “Exactly. I have 375 fb friends. I was with six of them when it happened. I swear. AND SO WILL THEY. And they will also swear I do not have your camera.”
Jay: “I hate you Main Line freaks. You all stick together no matter what.”
Me: “We all hate you, too. You should move. Today. And not to New Jersey or Delaware. They hate you there, too. Also, California. And Colorado. And probably Virginia and Maryland. Your moving options are more limited than I realized.”
Jay: “You were always such a bitch. Who else would leave pictures of metal chicken jesters on my truck? You’re the only nutcase who would do that.”
Me: “Nay, nay, Jay. First, Beyonce has 500,000 fans. And second, there is another nutcase at work here. And I fear she is far better and way nutcasier than I. Because metal chickens are meant to amuse and antagonize, not destroy. Was your performance with the new gf less than stellar last week? Did you complain about me, the jester and Baby Beyonce once too often?”
Jay: “I was great. She said so. Women always say that to me.YOU know what you’re missing.”
Me: “Exactly. Women ALWAYS say that. What’s her name? I want to friend her on fb.”
Jay: “I f**king hate your f**king guts so f**king much right now.”
Me: “What about that photo?”
No response. So on my way to work, I swung by the parking lot to snap a picture for myself (and you), but the giant black chickenmobile was gone. He must have taken it to work. Or the body shop.
And finally, to the new woman who took it up a notch beyond anything I’d have ever done (cause unlike you, I have a fear of prison and the nitwits on juries), if she’s reading:
Please friend me. He must’ve worn out your ear so much about the jester and metal chicken photos that you snapped and went all “Beyonce on Steroids with a Jester Hat” on his stupid truck. I get it. Also, I can’t stop laughing, and I hope you send me a photo. But even if you don’t, the police will probably show me one when they come to question me. And if it’s Officer Spirito, maybe he’ll let me have a copy of it. Even if he doesn’t, I’ll get to see him again and can stop speeding through my neighborhood trying to get him to pull me over cause that’s getting tiresome and is proving to be ineffective at grabbing his attention. So, thanks in advance. THIS IS AWESOME!