I got in my car, and turned the key;
The engine pathetically sputtered.
The idiot light on the dashboard blinked,
And the idiot—me—simply muttered.
It’s Satan again, playing loose with my car,
With his telekinetic abilities
Or else it’s the work of a communist spy
Who’s engaging in open hostilities.
Or maybe it’s gremlins, or grumpkins, or trolls,
Which magically live in the wires
Or the spirits of dinosaurs, haunting the gas,
Or a practical joke by the tires
The Car Gods might hate me for riding a bike
It might be the chipmunks at play
It could be I parked with the car facing South
And it messed with my auto feng shui
I questioned a psychic, a healer, a priest,
And I’m worried, and starting to panic;
My view of reality just took a hit…
And I might have to call a mechanic.
Thanks for this, Cuttlefish. One of your best efforts.
Haha nice one. Love it.
Great job, Cuttlefish.
For Alvin to call a mechanic,
is a place that is most problematic;
For on this he has been most indignant,
If he’s right it is but a figment.
That was everything the title promised, and more.
Must see video in this context:
That is hilarious, wonderer!
(emphasis mine)
That’s the former president of the American Philosophical Association, everybody.
The mind, it boggles.