Don't Hit My Car. I Mean It.

I was sitting in the passenger seat, and my dad was driving my little blue car. Behind us, was a nice person who will remain nameless (I’ll call him Chris). Chris was driving a huge silver SUV, with my mom and brothers also in the car. I don’t remember what we were driving around for, but we came to a parking lot with two open spaces. My dad started to pull into one of the spaces, but he was taking a long time. For some reason, my dad wanted to line the car up perfectly before pulling into the spot. This angered Chris, so he decided to slam into our car and push us around the parking lot. Our car started spinning. I rolled down my window and started yelling at Chris for wrecking my car, but he was driving away laughing. I was furious. (Here I should apologize to my roommate. Caryn, I’m sorry if I woke you up screaming obscenities in the middle of the night. I don’t know what came over me.) My dad and I got out of the car and stormed out of the parking lot, trying to follow Chris. For some reason, I knew exactly where he was headed. He was driving home to hide from us because he knew he had pissed us off. By the time we got out of the parking lot, Chris was out of sight, but we knew he wasn’t far. We knew that his house was just up the hill from the parking lot, so we began to climb the hill. We had to cross the road at one point to get to the right side of the grass where Chris had dropped off my mom and brothers, so we played what seemed like a “Frogger” game in traffic. Let me tell you…. It’s easier to cross the road than frogger makes it seem. Once we crossed the road, we stormed angrily over to Chris’s house. This is where it gets interesting.

Chris had a house that was run down, old, and dark. It reminded me of one of those haunted houses you walk through at theme parks. The curtains were sheets that were ripped and dirty, the furniture was old and broken, and there were many small rooms throughout the house. When we got up to the house, we saw that there were three police officers standing outside. They told us that Chris was hiding somewhere inside and that he was going to scare us when we found him. My dad and I tried to walk in, but the officers stopped us and told us that we had to go in one at a time so Chris could scare us. If you know me, I HATE haunted houses. Hate. Them. I was thinking to myself, “I’m really pissed at Chris for wreaking my car, I hate haunted houses, these cops are annoying me, and I’m in no mood to play hide-and-seek…. THAT’S. IT.” Infuriated, I grabbed a taser gun and tasered the three cops. My family looked on in shock. I didn’t care. I stormed into the house by myself and shouted, “CHRIS! I’VE GOT A TASER GUN AND IF YOU DON’T COME OUT OF HIDING, YOU’RE NEXT!!!!!” There was no response. I started to check every room, taser gun at the ready. I was in no mood to be messed with. After I searched the whole first floor, I knew Chris was hiding upstairs, because there was only one room upstairs. I walked up the stairs and saw Chris’s feet behind the door. He was giggling kind of loudly. I opened the door, saw him, and tasered him. He fell down on the ground and I looked at him and said, very dramatically, “That’s for hitting my car.” Then I walked out of the house, feeling very proud of myself.

This morning, I woke up mind-blown. Sometimes I don’t understand where my dreams come from. The only thing I can get out of that dream is that if you hit my car, I will taser you. Don’t hit my car.