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An Open Letter
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An open letter to the person or persons who broke into my 1994 Saturn (a car which is largely held together with duct tape) this past Thursday night:


I know I should feel violated, but, ha. The car has no chop-shop value, and there was a club on the steering wheel, so joyriding was out too. I can only imagine, based on forensic evidence, that you were really hoping to find some good juicy stuff to steal -- maybe Christmas presents secreted away in the trunk! Those are always good! I'm imagining how you must have felt when you wiggled your way into the teeny-tiny back seat, twisted yourselves contortionist-style, and pulled down the seat backs to access the trunk from the inside. Did you feel a thrill of anticipation, seeing how much stuff was crammed in there? Hee. Little did you know our trunk is essentially an auxiliary closet. There's stuff that's been there since we moved from our old house years ago. A flower pot. A curtain rod. A grass-stained picnic blanket. A bag of acorns! (Oh, the rage with which you scattered the contents of the bag of acorns through the backseat -- what, did you think we had diamonds hidden among the nuts? It was just for arts and crafts, dude(s).) A dirty dirty beach towel. Review copies of minor science fiction novels from 2004. The belt from a blue bathrobe. Ha! You left all that stuff scattered around my car, and you didn't take a damn thing, because there's absolutely el zilcho of value in that car. You tried the glove compartment too, of course, but you were inexplicably uninterested in the printed out mapquest directions to random places in the south bay, or the melted cassette tapes, or the broken sunglasses! Ha!

Normally I feel bad about how messy that car is, and keep thinking I should clean it out, but now... now I’m glad I left you a bunch of crap to dig fruitlessly through. It's even better than the time a joyrider stole our car when the tire had a leak we hadn't yet patched, and had to abandon it a few blocks later because it got a flat. Hee hee hee.

Ah, well. You didn't break my windows or defecate on the seats, so thanks for that.

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