You. YOU. Hey, you.
You probable mexican, you, that couldnt hold it, and just didnt care. I opened the Toyota's door on that fateful morningnot knowing what awaited me. The smell immediately told me that my car had had an encounter most delicious. My daughter sat in your leavings, and innocently thought it was cat urine. I had her touch it and smell her hand. Then she knew it was you, and it melted my heart.
Happy Today, my little wandering Valentine, glancing around furtively while you tried to find a comfortable position. Was the lilac bush 10 feet away too far? Do you have a phobia of letting your little guy taste the open night air?
I know it's been a while, and you probably have only a dim memory of that night, but I have a favor to ask. I have a van. It's always open. I hate this van and want to leave it, but I'll need your help. With the window motor broken, the engine being repaired, the oft-skipping cd player, just everything so wrong with it, I need to make it right. So right, and I'm gonna need some more of your goodness.
In fact, leave more than mexi-urine. Vomit, go number two, spew whatever filth that only a sinverguenza like you can come up with. I want to see it shamed and befouled, so that keeping up a relationship with that fat-bottomed van is out of the question.
Because recently I came close to losing that van, but mandi made me keep it and try to fix its many ills, instead of buying another van. And it hurt to make that decision. So I need you. And in a crazy mixed up world likethis that we live in, is it too much to ask to get a cleveland steamer on my dashboard? You can even spell out "I heart you"...wait. Just surprise me.