Car-bage

Story Submitted by Drake:

Back in my mid-twenties, I didn't own a car as I lived and worked in a big city.  It was at this time that I met Tori, a young woman who lived outside of town.  She came from a dating site, and we got to know each other for a little while before she offered to pick me up and bring me to one of her favorite restaurants out of town.

The evening of our date, she met me in front of my building and I opened the passenger side of her car... to find it positively crammed with papers, take-out containers, newspapers, books, folders, a George Foreman grill, and loose cereal.

She said, "Just shove that stuff away and have a seat."

Problem was, there was nowhere to shove it.  Every open space in her car was crammed with similar piles of junk, food, and waste.  Something even glistened among the passenger-side floor.  I had dressed nicely for the date, and wasn't about to sit in a garbage can, which is essentially what this was.

I asked her, "Maybe we can clean this out a bit first."

I grabbed handfuls of trash from off the seats and took it out of the car, with the intent of throwing it away in a nearby trash can.  "What are you doing?" she asked me, "That's my stuff.  Just shove it in back."

Some cereal bits were in my hands as well as some papers streaked with dirt and stains.  I asked her, "These are important?  There's no room for me to sit in here."

She said, "If it's in my car, it's important.  Just shove it all in back and I'll take care of it later."

"Want to help me?" I asked.

She gave me a look and said, "Not really.  You want it clean, you clean it.  I think there's plenty of room for you to sit."

I asked, "On the grill?  And this sticky mess?"

She said, "I could sit there."

I said, "So why don't you?  I'll drive."

She jumped out of the car, practically threw the keys at me, and pushed me out of the way to climb into the passenger side of the car.  She sat on top of the mound of trash, buckled herself in, and said, "Ta-da!"

I walked around to the driver's side, found it only slightly less filthy, and drove us up to the restaurant.  She punctuated nearly every statement or question with "My lord," after that, such as, "Did you have a good day, my lord?"  "Can I make your accommodations any better, my lord?"  "I live to serve you, my lord."

Dinner was a rush, as I wanted to go home throughout the entire thing, and she was my only way back.  We split dinner and she became nastier and nastier the more time we spent together.

I drove us back to right in front of my place, even though she asked me to stop two blocks away from it ("You're not worth the gas it would take to drop you off at your door, my lord!").  I never thought I'd be happier to be back home.

When I stepped out of her car, I said, "I hope that you get some help, because you're clearly insane."

"I'm insane?" she repeated.

"You said it," I said, then closed the door and hurried inside the building, away from the crazy lady forever.