Driving Myself Crazy (That was a pun! LAUGH)

*Looks up from her desk in the Pentagon*

Oh. Hello there. I was just in the middle of some very important paperwork involving the real details of 9/11. I'm also working on a pocket-sized nuclear reactor. I can make some time you though. I'll just let my sexy, shirtless, and quite male assistant take over my work for a bit. Would you like to get some lunch? I like lunch. Just let me grab my keys and I will drive you to an IHOP.

There is a single fictitious statement in the above paragraph. Can you guess which one it is? If you guessed "I will drive you to IHOP", you were 100 percent correct! My sexy assistant will give you a gift certificate to Bath and Body Works now.

Now, at this point you may be wondering why I would never drive you places. It's simple, really. I'm not very good at driving.

AUDIENCE: Esther! Don't kid yourself! You're great at driving.

That's very kind, audience. But it isn't true. Perhaps sometime in the very distant future, I might accumulate some driving skills. Hopefully this will be before I become a senior citizen, because when that happens I will automatically become a a bad driver anyway.
ASSISTANT: Esther, you know as well as I do that senior citizens can drive perfectly well.

Please, Almoldo, don't interrupt me. As I was saying, whenever I drive I get this deep-set fear that I will

SQUEE!

CRASH!

EXPLOSION!

It's a perfectly rational fear. Perfectly rational. I mean, some people never drive because of this fear. So either I'm brave enough to set foot in a steel juggernaut that can kill me, or I'm stupid enough to set foot in a steel juggernaut that can kill me.

Of course, driving does have its benefits. I get to drive a close approximation to this:



It's a lot of fun driving past vehicles that are a lot smaller than yours. You feel like a human stepping upon the bodies of toads. Still, this doesn't change the fact that at any second I could

SQUEE!

CRASH!

EXPLOSION!

I only have my permit. I could try and get my license, but, um, that probably wouldn't work out so well. I'd be so nervous I would probably drown the tester dude (real term) in my cold sweat.

ALMONDO: You don't sweat very much at all. Your face just gets really, really, really red--

Almondo! Just stay out of this for now. Go straighten your tie or something. As I was saying, after I drowned the tester dude, I would open the window to let some of my sweat out because the van is full of the stuff. And then a bird would fly in and attack me because birds hate me and then I would squee-crash-explosion and everything would go to the deepest bowels of Hades.

In short, I will never be ready to get my license.

It's sad, but I'm willing to accept it. I mean, I can't park straight, and I never remember which way to turn the wheel when I am in reverse. Knowing which way to turn the wheel in reverse gear should be easy, but I actually have to refer to a memory. The memory is that when I was pulling out of a parking lot, somehow I turned the wheel in the right direction on my first try, which made the butt of my van (real term) go to the right. So I refer to that memory whenever I want the butt of my van to go to the right. Yay for inefficiency! When a murderer is trying to get in my car I will have to take several seconds to remember which way my butt is supposed to face. My butt, of all things!

*sigh*

ALMONDO: Esther, you just have to believe in yourself.

You really think so, Almondo?

ALMONDO: Of course. Practice makes perfect. You'll know where to put your butt eventually

*sniff* You're right! I will know! I will know where to put my butt! And if I can do that, then I will eventually learn how to do other things as well! I'm so happy! Thanks Almondo!

ALMONDO: You're welcome.

(ALMONDO straightens his tie)

ALMONDO: Um, can I put on a shirt now? And can I have my Pentagon office back?

Oh. Right. Just let me grab my pudding and I'll be on my way.

ALMONDO: That's my pudding. And how will you leave?

I'll drive, of course! I have confidence.

ALMONDO: Right. Bye.

Bye Almondo! Thanks for everything!

. . .

. . .
. . .

EXPLOSION!