My poor common sense, guys. She is SO patient and SO abused. Like, Valerie Bertanelli in a Lifetime movie abused. Here’s a conversation I had with Common Sense today. Tragic.
Scene: Driving home. Music blaring, windows open, our heroine is bopping along to Boston punk rawk and waving a cigarette around in time with the music, swigging her eleventieth cup of coffee, and careening through lunchtime traffic. Common Sense rides shotgun, seatbelt securely fastened, helmet with mouth guard in place, wearing hockey pads, with rosary beads clutched in one hand, her last will and testament in the other.
Me: *slamming steering wheel repeatedly* The goddamn horn is broken! *slam slam slam* How am I to express my displeasure at these knobs’ driving skills without the *slam* horn? *slam*
Common Sense: Okay, I understand you’ve only had this car for a year and a half…
Me: *SLAM SLAM WHACK* What? Can you believe this idiot? Green means GO, jackass! Put up a Post-It or something!
CS: Like I said, I realize you’ve only had the Kia for less than two years, but-
Me: Her name is BLOODREIGNE. We’ve talked about this before. She’s a 2002 Kia for chrissakes. I have to emphasize her badassery if I’m ever going to hear the end of The Mocking.
CS: Well, it does-
CS: *sigh* She does get very good gas mileage. Your friends certainly can’t mock that, with fuel prices being what they are in these trying times.
Me: Bloodreigne is to be FEARED. Mere humans should gaze upon her in AWE. She doesn’t NEED expensive gas! She runs on the souls of the non-believers! Muahahahahaa! OH. Really? We’re gonna go 7 miles under the speed limit, dude-in-a-Mercedes? Really?! *whacks steering wheel again* See?? It’s BROKEN! I hear NO BEEPING!
CS: What I was trying to say is that I know change is hard for you, and that’s something we’re working on, and getting a new car after having the Chevy for so long-
Me: BLUE LIGHTNING!!! *begins weeping*
CS: Oh dear. I’m sorry. You have to remember that Blue was very very old, and she never could have made it all the way to Georgia back when we moved there. She went to a good home! A farm in the country! Where she could play with all the other Chevys!
Me: *sniffles* I loved Blue, you know. She was my constant companion. My bosom friend. HER horn worked, sorta! *weeps noisily*
CS: Now I really must insist that you stop crying and pay attention to – Please stop fiddling with the iPod and drive properly!
Me: You got me upset. I don’t like talking about Blue Lightning. The wound is too fresh. I need to find a song that accurately expresses my pain at the loss. What the hell were you babbling about again? OH. JUST PULL OUT IN FRONT OF ME. LOVELY. I HOPE YOU GET EBOLA. *slam slam slam* DAMMIT! Why isn’t this horn working?
CS: *takes deep breath* Do you see the two small buttons on either side of the steering wheel?
Me: Oh, yeah, they’re right here. Hey, they’ve got little horns on them-
CS: WATCH THE ROAD.
Me: Well, you told me to look!
CS: Yes. Two buttons with little horns on them. Coincidentally enough, they represent the horn, which will sound if you press the horn-labeled buttons. Which you could easily reach if your hands were at 10 and 2 where the driver’s manual says they should be, instead of holding a filthy cigarette in one and the iPod in the other, and you were not actually driving with your knee.
Me: Oh. So what have I been doing all this time when I was trying to beep the horn?
CS: You’ve been repeatedly and viciously punching the air bag.
Me: Ahhhhh. Probably shouldn’t do that, huh?
CS: *adjusts chin-strap on helmet, tightens seat belt.* Well, dear, we take things one step at a time. At least now you know.
Me: And knowing is half the battle!
CS: And tomorrow you’re on your own. I’m taking the bus.