As the self-proclaimed Commissioner of the Parking Police, Mrs. HM is ready to start throwing folks into the slammer! No more Mrs. Nice Guy! Do the crime, you deserve to do the time! We don't currently have a facility in Hillmomba to house these scofflaws, but I envision it to be a giant wire birdcage, with perch swings for exercise, and a little trough on the side for feeding them bologna sandwiches on Wonder Bread, raw broccoli, wax beans, and pineapples and coconuts for dessert. No utensils! They're a security risk, you know. Somehow they'll find a way to get into their fruits.
Anyhoo... I really need to find an architect to design my facility, because on Monday I found a violator I would like to lock up. My parking space was fine when I went into the Sis-Town Casey's. A white mini van was parked next to T-Hoe. I had deliberately left enough room for T-Hoe's giant door to open. There's only a striped walkway on the other side, so I was not hindering anybody else. No ramp there or anything. It's all flat.
When I came out, this Ram truck was parked over the line. I'm not sure you can even see the line. There was a lady rummaging around inside her truck, standing outside her driver's door. She could see me, you know, through her open windows. How I was trying to get T-Hoe's door open enough so I could get in. Holding that giant door at the first notch, so as not to hit her precious Ram truck. She obviouosly did not give a fat rat's rumpus about my inconvenience!
I had shoe-horned my feet inside by the time she finally went into the store. That required squeezing my knees past their comfortability, to bend them tighter than usual to get my dang feet in from the running board while I was sitting sideways on the seat. A feat which required pulling on my pants legs to force the tight bend.
Anyhoo... as I recovered before driving on to pick up The Pony, I took a good look at the cab of that Ram truck. IT WAS A HOARDER TRUCK! I swear, that lady might be living inside. If so, she cannot possibly get a good night's rest, because there's nowhere to stretch out! Every inch was covered with her treasures.
I really hope that's just a little vase on the dashboard, and not an urn filled with a loved one's ashes! Because it is tipped over! You don't want a loved one blowing out the window!
Of course at my lock-up facility, we would hold her loved one in a locker, all safe and sound, until Close Parker had served her time.
2 comments:
That really is bad of her to park right over the line like that and then to not acknowledge your fight to get into T-hoe! She might be a hoarder living in her truck, but maybe she is just moving house the cheapest possible way. Which doesn't excuse her poor parking at all.
River,
Yes, it's highly possible she's just one of those people who never clean out their vehicle! After all, The Pony had a YEAR OLD chocolate chip cookie on the floor of his Rogue, and his Bestie ATE IT! Even though The Pony warned her of its age, calculated by the strata of other trash. The Pony once had plans of being an archaeologist, you know.
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