This is another essay I had to write...I got alot of compliments on the humorousity, (probably not a word), of it. So I figured you would be able to appreciate it.
The Key to an Anecdote
(an amusing anecdote)
It was a Monday evening just like any other, when I was asked by my parents to pick up dinner for the rest of my family. The former party were going forty miles from home, just to eat, so they wouldnt be here to get anything for my four siblings and me. After they had left, my brother and oldest sister chose a restaurant by means of a stack of small paper menus from various restaurants, (these menus seemed to serve no other purpose than to satisfy the laziness inherent in people), and began studying the take-home menu with the others. Each wrote down which item he or she wished to eat, and my brother gave me the twenty dollar bill provided by my father. He and I then left for the little mom-and-pop joint they had selected. Once there, we placed our order, only to be surprised by the fact that fifty percent of the prices on the menu we were using were wrong. This left us two dollars short, (naturally the prices were higher than we previously thought). Upon discovering that someone had done much guesswork when typing the take-home menu, my brother and I decided to top this silliness with some irrationality of our own: he stayed behind in the chicken shop, while I took leave, to hunt down an ATM machine. The cashier directed me to a gas station a couple of blocks down, which she said had a working ATM.
Once at the gas station, I cheerily stepped out of the van, routinely locked it, and closed the door of my fate for that night. It took me all of half a second to realize that I had just succeeded in locking and sealing this vehicle, whose only key was still in the ignition. My own blaring music mocked me in muffled tones. I glumly strode into the gas station, and asked for a phone call. I called my parents cell phone, and my older sister at home, neither of whom could do anything but waste half an hour of time, (and gas), scolding me. Realizing that I was on my own, I searched for people I knew, and managed to find an old friend from grade school. She offered the help of her brother, who happened to be working at the gas station while we were there. There was no need for me to turn down his help, because he did that for me himself, on the basis that he no longer steals cars, and picking locks is part of the package. Even when I assured him that I wasnt going to make him steal my parents van, he refused. I turned back to my gorgeous old friend and asked if there was any help she could give. She was all smiles and winks, and said she would see what she could find back at her house. By this time, it was apparent to me that she was more interested in eye contact and sexual innuendo with me, than opening the van I was so skilled at locking.
When the girl had left, I deemed it a good time to actually do that for which I had come. I walked to the ATM inside, and, (to my utter dismay and frustration), there was an Out of order sign taped atop the screen. This was salt in the wound.
I wasnt counting on my pretty friend to come back, since she was always more of an aquaintance anyway. I also took into consideration the rather selfish nature of most people, so I searched for anyone else who would help. First I found an older, dark-skinned man, who was getting in a car with a child whom I took to be his grandson. The kind man said he would drop the child off, then he would help me. I then rested my body against a wall while I waited for him. While I was propped up against this wall, a middle-aged, rather plump man leaned on the wall next to me, and asked about my life. I related the basics of the story to him, despite the fact that the most unsettling sidelong glances I had ever witnessed were emanating from him. After a two minute harrangue about keeping a spare key in my wallet, he discussed his marital problems in depth. I offered my sympathy, but the man presented himself in far too suspicious a manner for me to stay long, and my brother was still waiting with the chicken. The next person I talked to was a gasoline truck driver. He seemed to have just finished refilling the pumps when I caught up to him, and he said he was willing to aid me. All he really did, though, was drive the circumference of the gas station three times, wave, smile and leave. I assumed that was his way of helping, and I tried to be appreciative.
The elderly man, when he returned, promised me he could get a policeman out with a slim-jim, because he knew all the policemen around there very well. He never had a chance to prove this ability, because we found a state trooper who had pulled someone over. We waited for a partially dressed woman to finished thrusting her vile language upon our ears and his, then asked for him to help when he was done.
Shortly thereafter, my attractive friend returned with her entire family, who, it seemed, were out seeking an entertaining event. I was glad to accomodate them. Her older brother had brought his highly sensitive lock-picking equipment, which looked uncannily like a clothes hanger, while she had changed clothes before returning, just for me. She stood next to me, making flirty conversation, while her brother drew a crowd with his colorful method of popping a lock which really only resulted in scratching the van a bit, and tearing up a gasket. The state trooper finally came over, and cut through the team of specialists pouring over my parents poor van, from which loud music still issued forth. He openned the car, and the crowd dispersed after I thanked them all. My parents, still to this day, remind me not to lock the keys in the car.
comments?
The Key to an Anecdote
(an amusing anecdote)
It was a Monday evening just like any other, when I was asked by my parents to pick up dinner for the rest of my family. The former party were going forty miles from home, just to eat, so they wouldnt be here to get anything for my four siblings and me. After they had left, my brother and oldest sister chose a restaurant by means of a stack of small paper menus from various restaurants, (these menus seemed to serve no other purpose than to satisfy the laziness inherent in people), and began studying the take-home menu with the others. Each wrote down which item he or she wished to eat, and my brother gave me the twenty dollar bill provided by my father. He and I then left for the little mom-and-pop joint they had selected. Once there, we placed our order, only to be surprised by the fact that fifty percent of the prices on the menu we were using were wrong. This left us two dollars short, (naturally the prices were higher than we previously thought). Upon discovering that someone had done much guesswork when typing the take-home menu, my brother and I decided to top this silliness with some irrationality of our own: he stayed behind in the chicken shop, while I took leave, to hunt down an ATM machine. The cashier directed me to a gas station a couple of blocks down, which she said had a working ATM.
Once at the gas station, I cheerily stepped out of the van, routinely locked it, and closed the door of my fate for that night. It took me all of half a second to realize that I had just succeeded in locking and sealing this vehicle, whose only key was still in the ignition. My own blaring music mocked me in muffled tones. I glumly strode into the gas station, and asked for a phone call. I called my parents cell phone, and my older sister at home, neither of whom could do anything but waste half an hour of time, (and gas), scolding me. Realizing that I was on my own, I searched for people I knew, and managed to find an old friend from grade school. She offered the help of her brother, who happened to be working at the gas station while we were there. There was no need for me to turn down his help, because he did that for me himself, on the basis that he no longer steals cars, and picking locks is part of the package. Even when I assured him that I wasnt going to make him steal my parents van, he refused. I turned back to my gorgeous old friend and asked if there was any help she could give. She was all smiles and winks, and said she would see what she could find back at her house. By this time, it was apparent to me that she was more interested in eye contact and sexual innuendo with me, than opening the van I was so skilled at locking.
When the girl had left, I deemed it a good time to actually do that for which I had come. I walked to the ATM inside, and, (to my utter dismay and frustration), there was an Out of order sign taped atop the screen. This was salt in the wound.
I wasnt counting on my pretty friend to come back, since she was always more of an aquaintance anyway. I also took into consideration the rather selfish nature of most people, so I searched for anyone else who would help. First I found an older, dark-skinned man, who was getting in a car with a child whom I took to be his grandson. The kind man said he would drop the child off, then he would help me. I then rested my body against a wall while I waited for him. While I was propped up against this wall, a middle-aged, rather plump man leaned on the wall next to me, and asked about my life. I related the basics of the story to him, despite the fact that the most unsettling sidelong glances I had ever witnessed were emanating from him. After a two minute harrangue about keeping a spare key in my wallet, he discussed his marital problems in depth. I offered my sympathy, but the man presented himself in far too suspicious a manner for me to stay long, and my brother was still waiting with the chicken. The next person I talked to was a gasoline truck driver. He seemed to have just finished refilling the pumps when I caught up to him, and he said he was willing to aid me. All he really did, though, was drive the circumference of the gas station three times, wave, smile and leave. I assumed that was his way of helping, and I tried to be appreciative.
The elderly man, when he returned, promised me he could get a policeman out with a slim-jim, because he knew all the policemen around there very well. He never had a chance to prove this ability, because we found a state trooper who had pulled someone over. We waited for a partially dressed woman to finished thrusting her vile language upon our ears and his, then asked for him to help when he was done.
Shortly thereafter, my attractive friend returned with her entire family, who, it seemed, were out seeking an entertaining event. I was glad to accomodate them. Her older brother had brought his highly sensitive lock-picking equipment, which looked uncannily like a clothes hanger, while she had changed clothes before returning, just for me. She stood next to me, making flirty conversation, while her brother drew a crowd with his colorful method of popping a lock which really only resulted in scratching the van a bit, and tearing up a gasket. The state trooper finally came over, and cut through the team of specialists pouring over my parents poor van, from which loud music still issued forth. He openned the car, and the crowd dispersed after I thanked them all. My parents, still to this day, remind me not to lock the keys in the car.
comments?
as soon as I got my car my parents made me go get an extra set of keys incase that happened to me. It saved me once from doing that same thing 
