Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Nick-a-part, nick-a-part, nick-a-part, nick-a-part. Tonight I was minding my own business, like the mostly law-abiding citizen I am, when I got a call from Penny.
"Hey Brain, wanna come on a mission with me?"
"What kind of mission?"
"To Brunswick, to steal some car parts."

You see, Penny's car was missing the indicator cover and a few other things, and she'd been planning to go to Pick-A-Part to get them. But it really began to obsess her. You know how when you're in the market for a car, or are thinking about car-related issues, and you notice that particular model about as often as every second car on the road? Well, Penny drives a "Laser". She had been obsessively noticing how the indicator covers on Ford Lasers were usually white, but she wanted the yellow ones. She'd begun fantasising about stealing the cover in the dead of night. She actually staked out her street to see if there were any likely cars to strip.

So she showed up on my doorstep tonight wearing ugg boots and a stripey top like Burglar Bill. All she needed was a sack marked "Loot". For my part, I was wearing all black, including a windcheater that says "Road Hog: Born to Race." It was a deal; it was a steal.

Earlier that day, she'd found paydirt: an abandoned Laser in a Brunswick car park. It was about 9pm when we got there. We parked the Laser in a convenient getaway spot. Penny took a screwdriver from her bag.
"What will I say if anyone sees me?" she asked.
"Tell 'em it's your car," I said.
This was a pretty ludicrous excuse. The car had three wheels, the sunroof and number plates were missing, and all the windows were smashed. But the yellow indicator cover was miraculously intact.

I stood watch as Penny unscrewed the cover. But she couldn't get it off because the panel had been crumpled down, pinning it in place. She eventually prised it off as I tugged up the panel with all my puny girl strength. We walked very quickly to the getaway Laser, where Penny screwed on the replacement cover. It fitted! It matched!

It was the perfect crime! And 'twas not even metaphorical - 'twas completely illegal, to be sure!

We celebrated with Italian hot chocolates at Brunetti, which we accompanied with Cherry Ripe in honour of the old man hitting his dog between servings of snot. Penny said that we should brainstorm other ways that crime can solve your problems. I think she meant exciting crime capers and hijinks, but we could only think of dumb things like "I want some boots - I will steal them" and "I want good marks - I will hack into the university computer system."

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