Me: What to talk about today?
Common Sense: We could talk about the drive to the shrink.
Me: I think it went vair, vair well today.
CS: I agree! I mean, it was still terrifying, as it always is.
Me: You have a tendency to exaggerate for someone who is supposed to be my common sense.
CS: I have a tendency to speak the TRUTH, which is that your driving "skills" are terrifying.
Me: Never gotten ONE TICKET. OR accident.
CS: Why do you LIE every second of your life?
Me: I'm not lying! I am full of truthiness.
CS: You're LYING. You got a parking ticket when you were picking up Captain Awesome at the train.
Me: Pish posh. That was bullshit, and parking tickets aren't even real tickets.
CS: And you had a HORRIBLE accident.
Me: I don't know what you're talking about.
CS: Need I remind you about the deer?
Me: I don't talk about the deer.
CS: Well *I* am going to talk about the deer. Do the blog readers know about the deer?
Me: That's not an appropriate story for the blog.
CS: I'm telling.
Me: You wouldn't dare.
CS: You tell it or I do.
Me: FINE. Once upon a time I hit a deer with my car. The end.
CS: That's like, the blurb on the back of the Cliffs' Notes.
Me: OKAY, I will CLARIFY. One time a deer RAN INTO MY CAR and I was perfectly innocent of the whole thing.
CS: You're going to make me do it, aren't you?
Me: Go ahead, I'll be under the couch. I give up.
CS: Here's what happened. About 8 or so years ago, Miss Banshee was in fine form. She had a bottle of Jack Daniels squirreled away in her bedroom, she lived with her parents, and was working at a daycare.
Me: *under couch* Tell them where the bottle was hiddden.
CS: The bottle of Jack Daniels was hidden in one of these:
CS: Shush. So anyway, Miss Banshee has a friend we'll call Rick, cause that's his name. And Rick worked at a restaurant. And that restaurant was almost 30 minutes away. But! That restaurant? Had a BAR.
Me: I liked bars.
CS: We all know that. So Miss Banshee put on her boots, and her hair –
Me: Show them.
CS: FINE. Banshee put on her hair:
Me: NEVER DRINK AND DRIVE.
CS: Oh, let me clarify here, because, shockingly enough, you make an excellent point. Banshee was not drunk at the time. She was driving to the bar to drink enough to still get home safely, and then she'd have a massive nightcap from the bottle of Jack Daniels. Miss Banshee, for all her myriad flaws, did not make it a habit of driving drunk, which no one should ever, ever do.
Me: I was a drunk, I wasn't IRRESPONSIBLE.
CS: Yes you were. But Shame just showed up, and she's making it hard to tell this story, so we'll save the whole "shame of being a drunk" story for another time.
Me: Tell them where I hid the bottle of JD when I wore the boots.
CS: In a tube sock in her underwear drawer.
Me: See! Crafty. CLEVER.
CS: Can I please tell the story? So Banshee was wearing her hair, and her boots, and a shamefully short skirt, and a shirt of some sort that probably said something on it like "KITTEN" or "METAL" or anything really inappropriate, and she drove her beloved Chevy to the bar, to get free drinks.
Me: BLUE LIGHTNING!
CS: Yes, we drove Blue Lightning. Now Blue was a fine, fine car, a 1988 Chevy Cavalier of the most atrocious shade of blue, with a red racing stripe, but the real point was that it was built like a TANK, out of real metal, not like our piece of shit Kia, which is made of plastic and isn't really a car at all.
So off to the bar we went, (this was back in the Drinking Days, when Banshee could still drive at night, if you gave the incentive of booze) in Blue Lightning, as we did every weekend.
Me: And we almost made it. Stupid town. Stupid town in the WOODS.
CS: Yeah, the town which housed the bar was in a more rural, if not exceedingly affluent town. But the real point is that it was rural. And what lives in rural areas?
Me: FUCKING WILDLIFE.
CS: Yes, fucking wildlife. And mere minutes from the bar, what happened?
CS: Yes, blammo. A deer ran right in front of Blue, which was going approximately 35 mph. And we hit it. OH BOY did we hit that deer.
Me: The deer hit US. WE were innocent.
CS: That's actually true. When people say "It came out of nowhere?" Sometimes that's true.
Me: So BLAMMO, the deer hit the car. And ricocheted off the front of the car, spiraled in the air, and landed in a very dead position on the side of the road.
CS: That deer was dead.
Me: That deer was WICKED PISSAH dead. So I did what any other responsible adult would do.
CS: You kept driving, asshole.
Me: I kept driving! To the bar! Because Blue Lightning was FINE, unlike the deer.
CS: Which was very dead.
Me: Wicked pissah dead.
CS: So we drove to the bar, and parked, and inspected the front of the car, which was FINE, if you didn't count the grill, which had snapped off. Also there were deer parts. We'll skip that bit.
Me: It was kind of gross. I was in shock.
CS: We were TOTALLY in shock. So we did the only thing we knew how to do. We walked into the bar and ordered a beer and a shot.
Me: And I think we said something like "deer. car. dead. go boom."
CS: And the bartender took AWAY the beer and the shot, and said that we had to call the police.
Me: I did not want to do this.
CS: Neither did I, but it was the right thing to do. So we called the police, FROM A BAR, to inform them that we had killed a deer with our car.
Me: They weren't impressed.
CS: No, they weren't. But they came to the bar anyway, and took a statement, and that was hilair.
Me: Well they kept ASKING ME if the deer ran away!
CS: And we said no.
Me: And then they asked if it HOBBLED away.
CS: And we said no.
Me: So I finally said "THE DEER IS DEAD. VERY DEAD. WICKED DEAD."
CS: And the officer, who was totally unimpressed at the fact that he was taking an accident report AT A BAR, wrote in his little notebook and went away.
Me: And then I finally got my beer and shot. And a LOT of others. I got HAMMERED that night.
CS: Someone else drove us home. We didn't drive hammered.
Me: No, we didn't. That's important.
CS: Very important.
Me: And my beloved Blue Lightning saved my pathetic miserable life that night, cause if it had been the Kia, I would have been as dead as the deer.
CS: Which was very dead.
Me: Yes. So that's the story of the deer. And the accident. That totally wasn't my fault.
CS: It really wasn't.
Me: *pokes head out from under couch, grins smugly.*
CS: And this is where we end the story, because here comes Shame again, and we have to go back under the couch and feel like a terrible person for the rest of the day.
Me: Truth. Bye!