this is not an open letter

this is not an open letter

This is not an open letter to the reject who rummaged around in my car last night, leaving my glove box and all the little cubbies open and laying my parking card on my seat just to let me know he was there. Usually I write an open letter to someone who’s pissed me off but remains anonymous (like the other two times someone broke into my car and the time someone broke into my garage – all in the last thirteen months).

I know that this country is fucked up and there are a few people who have and a lot of people who don’t. However, I do not have the golden ticket squirreled away in my car or in my garage or in my house or in my ass (though there’s room in each one except my car).

Rather than stay angry about it (which is a waste of time), or write an open letter (which you’re probably tired of by now), I’ve been thinking of different things I can put in my car to greet the next jagoff who decides to go snooping around in there.

Once I had a chick friend who was fond of pulling the passenger visor down in my car when we were on our way to drunken 20-something good times. She’d always say, “Oh, right, you don’t have a mirror over here.” After about the fifteenth time she said it, I planted a big, hairy, plastic spider, thinking it would fall down in her lap and scare the shit out of her, thus making her forever not want to pull down the visor and be snotty in my car again. Well, I didn’t count on my mother riding in the car before the chick did. The spider scared the shit out of my mother because the little string that was supposed to make it hang at lap-level broke and the spider fell under the seat. She didn’t get a good enough look at it to realize it was fake, and I was laughing too hard to tell her for a full minute. Don’t want to go there again. Plus, sometimes I forget things and I’d hate to be driving full tilt down the highway and think there was a big creepy crawly in the car with me.

Robert suggested I get one of those Halloween decorations that are noise-activated. Like a skeleton that makes noises, has red eyes and shakes when you clap your hands. That way, when the scavenger opens my car door, the skeleton will go off and hopefully scare the shit out of him. The problem with this plan, as my mother pointed out, is that a) if he really did shit his pants it might get on my car and b) if I manage to scare someone, once they recover they might take it out on my car. No dice.

I think what I’ll do is this. Take some old, dingy material. Create a very crude voodoo doll, complete with Xs for eyes. Get some straight pins and place them around the doll, paying special attention to the face and groin areas. I will be careful not to think of much of anything as I place the pins, not wanting to actually engage in any voodoo, hoodoo or doodoo. Then I’ll place the doll either in the glove box or on the dashboard, so when the vulture gets into my car he has to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have.

This is small comfort, but I have to do something. I cannot sit idly by while asshole after asshole keep getting into my personal space. Enough already.

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