One of the things I loved most about the old Monty Python’s Flying
Circus show was that, if they didn’t know how to end a skit, they’d
simply drop a great big black weight on the character(s) with the
label: “10 Tons“
Where’s that 10 Ton weight when I need it? I want to drop it on my car.
Imagine the insurance person coming out to inspect the damage.
Picture a frumpy hunchbacked guy with a faded brown sweater and a
clipboard. “Where’s the car?”
I point. “Right there.”
It takes a moment to register. He looks incredulous. “It’s flat!”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“What happened, again?”
“A ten-ton weight fell on it.”
Of course, they’d declare it an act of God and simply not pay. So
then the guy with the tow truck would come out to repo it for the
finance company. I can see a guy in a beat up old tow truck, wearing a
dirty blue denim jacket and a 4 day beard, driving around the block
four times before realizing the car in question is the flat thing
taking up space in front of my mail box. He gets out of the truck and
stands in front of it, looking down and scratching his head. By then,
of course, I’d be sitting on the front porch with a big bottle of rum,
drinking it straight from the bottle.
“Want some?” I’d call out.
He gives me a strange look then, without a word, gets back into his truck and drives away.
Later, I’d prop the car up on four big blocks of wood and use it as a table.