I'd say that this is the kind of car that could survive the apocalypse but the apocalypse isnt even here yet and its already contending for the worlds biggest paperweight. Therefore I was little surprised when I turned the key and the battery started coughing up blood before keeling over. Obviously that didnt actually happen, I'm just being colorful.
So I strapped on my +2Backpack of Holding and made for the nearest auto parts store. My legs thought it was about 2 miles away, my head thought it was 10 minutes, and my bladder didnt think anything cause its a bladder. I soon had a new battery for my 2001 Chrysler P.O.S. and was on my way home. But now I had to install the battery. I broke out my tools, and using my brawn and iron arms, I wrestled the old battery from its casing.
Having freed the rotting Autozone corpse, I shoved a brand new Napa one in its place. Then I closed the hood, turned the key and listened to that baby cough to life. I felt so manly. I was out in the cold with my tools working on a car. Successfully too. I took an immovable iron hulk and brought it to life again. Testosterone was coursing through my veins, a thousand years of ancestors were calling my name, cannons thundered in my ear! Thats when I realized I was having a stroke. I wont bore you with the details of it, but suffice it to say, I needed to go to the grocery store. Having done something manly I felt the need to balance it with something more feminine. So I made cookies.
Clearly I have a lot of time on my hands when I'm not celebrating the NY Giants winning the Super Bowl and Eli Manning winning his second, not his first, Super Bowl MVP title. I'm starting to run low on ways to celebrate their glory.
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| The fries of champions. Not pictured: onion rings of glory |
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