Group1

hunk! One sandaled foot plants itself firmly on the patio. Thunk! Two sandaled feet planted firmly on the patio. Who da man?! I da man. I shrug my shirt to realign my long-sleeved shirt. Yeah, its 90 degrees out. Yeah, I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt. I wish I had a ring on the end of my car keys. So I could twirl them impetuously. I twirl the car keys impetuously on my chain, in my head. My shorts, if one had to give them a name (hint: they need none) would be best described as Bermuda-“Esque”. They draw attention to me like a violently yellow male handbag does to a man. A man in a mall. I am not a man in a mall, I am a man on a mission. It was handed to me via “text” “message”. Move the car to the garage she said. Move the VW to the garage, she said. Move that Stick Shift to the garage, she said. I said “yeah, sure, no problem.” It’s all in a days work, taking out the trash, doing the dishes, vacuuming, and yeah, moving the car. I approach the car. That's my car. My mode of transportation. My Bitch. I click the unlock button. Twice. That opens the entire car, even though I only need the driver side door open. I get in the car and switch on the stereo. I have my iPod in one pocket of my checkered shorts. I pull it out. I put on the song for driving. (Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum LISTEN ALL OF Y’ALL THIS IS SABOTAAAAAAAAAAGE Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum Strum.) I put on sunglasses. Armani sunglasses. I glance down the length of the driveway. Maureen is taking out the trash and she glances over across the strip of asphalt separating our houses and the expanse of grey concrete that is our driveway. I click the little button at the top of my key that pops the key out of its holding socket and brandish it like a miniature saber. I stick the key into the ignition with a satisfying “slick” and turn the key. My car purrs to life. It purrs to life like a giant cat. A giant cat with attitude. Maureen looks across the strip of asphalt that is our street. She looks across the expanse of concrete that is our driveway. She looks at me. She looks at me because I’m revving this engine like its my job. If this were 11pm at night, the old people to my left would have totally woken up. I gently back the car in a fierce curve to make it face the garage. The right garage. The garage for smaller cars, because the Honda odyssey is in the left garage. The garage for big cars. I’m facing the garage and I adjust my sunglasses to better catch the glare. I look to my left and my right. Like I need to. Theres a red fischer price ridey mobile insolently pointed towards me. I rev the engine again. I shift the car into first gear. This is kind of like my crowning moment of awesome. You know, when a character so defines himself that he will be forever remembered for this. Yeah. This is it.