Friday, January 21, 2011

The Truck

I shook my fist in impotent fury.  The truck wouldn't start.  "Start, you big dumb lug!"  

It clicked its engine at me.  "No, I think not.  I will be napping right here."

I was the one who wanted a nap.  I was the one who wanted to bury myself in blankets on the downstairs couch.  All I had to do was go take the truck, pick up a chair, and then lumber down the stairs.  And now the beastly thing was taunting me.  I couldn't very well threaten it with a sledgehammer since it's not my truck.  It would know that I was bluffing.  Nothing to do but jump it.

Wretchedness.  There shouldn't be this much green on the terminals.  It's not even Packers green.  "Don't even bother.  It's not going to work.  Go back inside and take your nap.  I won't tell."

If only...  But alas no.  I really must go.  But it's cold outside.  And I feel derided by a truck.  It's not even four wheel drive!  Maybe she's right.  Maybe it won't work?  And why am I thinking of this truck as a she?  What does that even mean?


It didn't work.  She was right.  It's going to take surgery.  Where was that sledgehammer?  

"Just give up, Sweetie.  I'm not worth your bother."

"I know you're not, you wicked thing!  But I can't take a proper nap without a clean conscience!  Naps demand it.  It's in their contract."

Corrosion.  Rust.  Bitter cold.  Darkness.  Ulysses would be proud.   Go to store.  Mother in law buys battery.  Come back.  Socket set?  Doesn't work.  What?  Work!  I just want a nap!  I don't need a fancy couch.  I'd settle for the floor.  

And then... finally, oh no, oh yes, yes!!!  It's coming together.  Hope, so long dashed, is rising from the snirt and grime, like a delicious bass from the lake!  Will she start and make my joy complete?


And now I'm too excited to sleep.  Stupid truck.

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