Wednesday, June 07, 2006

A Vendetta Against Fruit

And those who throw it.

As I sit down in my vehicle this morning to drive to campus, I notice that there is a large, semi-circular crack beginning around the area where my rear-view mirror is and arching perfectly down into my field of vision and my passenger's.

How the fuck did this get here?

According to the pulpy goodness stuck in the middle of this crack, I blame some sort of citrus fruit, thrown, clearly, at such a speed that it might crack a windshield.

Who fucking throws fruit at that speed? Who fucking throws fruit? This is what I want to know.

As I drive to campus, I find the rogue peice of produce wedged in the crack between my hood and window, held in place as I drive by my windshield wiper.

The offending fruit has since been placed in my evidence locker. My evidence locker being the wineglasses I stole from Bryna's wedding two weeks ago and still haven't taken out of the backseat of my car.

I can dust it for fingerprints if I need to. Because I've decided that I'm fucking Veronica Mars and I can do this kind of thing.

I am considering taking my "evidence" to the manager of the building behind me, over whose fence the projectile lemon was launched, and telling them that their residents need to stop throwing things over fences with such blinding force because what has happened to poor little Lola (my car) is technically a. vandalism (if intentional) and b. destruction of personal property.

(The fence: intended to keep fruit off my fucking car.)

The Good News is that my insurance will replace my windshield, as long as I tell them that the projectile lemon came off a lemon truck as I was driving through the lemonfields of Goleta one day.

(An accessory to the crime.)

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