Let There be Cowboys

Let There be Cowboys:

"I can't believe I'm going back to this place," I mumbled as I peered through the blurry glass window. Groaning, I sunk back into the red velvet seat and propped my feet on top of the dusty blue dash board. It creaked in protest, and my eyes rolled in response.

I felt like telling it to grow a pair, until I realized it was an inanimate object. Oh yeah Clara, that's the way to go! Lets start a piss party with a century old piece of plastic! Yay.

This thing I'm in, being considered a vehicle, is just mind blowing. It sounds like someone tore it apart, only to put the pieces back together backwards.

The exhaust pipe sounds like it got plugged up with a shot gun and set fire to the gravel behind us with every tap of the gas pedal. When the truck roared to life, I thought a war broke out and ducked for cover beneath the seats.

 I screamed for mercy, "Please don't kill me! I haven't gotten to meet Lady Gaga and challenge her in  a glass blowing contest! I haven't hugged a guy dressed as a panda bear while we zip lined across the ocean, with narwhals following us from beneath! Please, I don't want to die like this!" Yeah, my lungs were definitely not happy campers....

After my rant, realization struck me. Not only did I realize it was only the truck posing as the masked murderer, but I was also mere inches from an extremely large bug, drenched with other parasites that seemed to enjoy its... shell? Yeah, lets go with shell.

I jumped up, banging my head against the glove box in the process.

"Ow," I whimpered rubbing my head. So I guess that was payback, my bad. So sorry Mr. Dashboard sir, have I told you how young and prosperous you are? That shade of blue fits you beautifully! 

My eyes made contact with my 'safe place' (under the seats), and disgust swept across my face when I saw exactly what I had been huddling upon.

Plastic cups, crunched up cans, chewed straws, crumpled paper bags, wrappers from cheeseburgers (that still had moldy cheese on them mind you), bungee cords, rusty screwdrivers and wrenches, muddy straps, about five different types of gloves with holes, and sadly no match to any of them to make a pair, random papers everywhere, oddly shaped pencils and pens laying around, and I think I saw a dead mouse under the seat. 

Oh, and don't forget the sticky mud/soda stains, and what I'm hoping to be sour cream glued on the side of the door. Fingers crossed.

Lovely isn't it? If this was a date (barf), it would be a hillbillies paradise. I've forgotten, it is a hillbillies paradise, my sperm donors paradise. Double yay.

I think this truck was light blue back in its day, and when I say back in its day, I mean the 80's, possibly 40's if I'm being nice. My only clue is that of the blue specks of paint defending themselves from the massive armies of rust.

Its a miracle to see this bucket move. Kind of makes you feel like your Mary Poppins when she's walking up those magical stairs and flying down with her umbrella.You have no idea how she does it, but she does it, and it works.

Speaking of miracles, hearing the radio blaring country music on the right side of the truck was surprising. Yes the right side. Normal trucks have speaker on both sides! Ooooooo, ahhhhhh! I almost had a relapse of the attack of the exhaust pipe when the speaker spoke a new robot language, but what else should  I've expected?

I decided to inspect the interior of this abomination known as a truck. I really didn't want to die, especially if the cause was something from this truck. Wouldn't want to be impaled by a deformed  pen. Better safe than sorry right?