Poopmobile.

I don’t know why he decided to buy that car. He has trouble parallel parking because it’s so huge and it takes up more space—space that could be given to a better looking car. On top of that he bought it in white. Who buys a white car? It’s a fucking dirt magnet! He spends half, if not all, his time making sure that he can see his reflection on the chrome. I love it when he parks the car directly outside my window. It sits there hogging up the asphalt all clean and pristine. Then a bird comes along and defecates all over his prized trophy and I am happy. His gleaming beacon of hope is now smattered with poop. I guess it’s not so bad—the birds are pooping to my amusement. I’m glad he bought that shitty car.