DRIVING GLOVES
BY STEVEN MICHAEL SARBER
“Dude! Driving gloves?”
“They add to the whole Corvette experience.”
“Well, the car’s red--shouldn’t you have Prince on the radio, too?”
“It’s not a car, Jerry, it’s a Corvette.”
“Yeah, well you look like a dickhead.”
“But a dickhead driving a Corvette!”
“Why’d you get it in red anyway? You know how cops love to pull over red sports cars.”
“Red pulls in the Pussy. Capital ‘P’.”
“Okay, you got me there.”
“And we’re going to go test that out, Jer.”
“What? The pussy-magnetism of this ride?”
“Hey, you didn’t capitalize the ‘P’. I could hear it in your voice.”
“Whatever.”
“We’re here.”
“Oh, boy, Roxy’s. You know I’m allergic to the perfume strippers use.”
“Come on… you’ll be fine.”
#
“Hey! Where’s my car?”
“Dude, it isn’t a car--it’s a Corvette!”
“No--it’s gone!”
“Well, look at that, Rick--they left your driving gloves, right there in the parking lot.”
END
Came here via Kristen's blog.
ReplyDeleteInteresting that there was no girl with him when he came back out. Snigger!
Yeah, I'd thought about having a stripper with 'em, her being the one to notice the driving gloves, but it didn't feel right that way. ;)
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by, Tia, I'll check you out a little later today. :)
I just read your latest story you put up- and now this. (yes, I work backwards)
ReplyDeleteI giggled at the end. Good job! :)