Taking a lesuirely stroll out to the front varandah at around 9pm last night, I opened the door and heard the unmistakable sound of a fuel can banging and slushing. Looking up I saw a figure with a white hoodie dashing up the street a couple of houses up. Not having my detective cap and novelty sized magnifying glass, I had to go over to my automocar for a closer look and was greeted with the site of the fuel door open and the cap sitting on the boot with a length of hose laying nearby.
Now, normally I’m pretty good at locking my automobile each night but I had left it unlocked after a quick jaunt down to the market for some sustenance about an hour earlier. Whilst I overcame the urge to drop to my knees, hold the hose aloft and scream “OH GOD WHY!! THEY HAVE DOCKETS! E10 EVEN!” I remembered I’d been here before, although not having the pleasure of seeing Robbin’ hoodie demonstrate to the world that there needs to be an olympic event for the 500m petrol can sprint.
Yes, it is true. I have been tapped before. On the other occasion, I had once again left my mechanical steed unlocked in my haste to remove the rather heavy rolled up carpet covered in cranberry juice that I had found on the side of the road. When I came out in the morning I had noticed that my petrol door was open and I had been relieved of nearly half a tank of fuel.
I advised mrs Dil that I would need some extra funds to fill up, to which she enquired if I had been out driving around the neighbourhoods throwing stones at whores. I replied in the negative, I spend my time more wisely and appreciate the valuable services that whores provide.
So wrapping up my tale of woe. If you live in the Page area particularly around the Page ‘shops’ be sure that you secure your horseless carriage lest you find yourself unable to drive around neighborhoods throwing stones at ladies daring to show a bit of ankle.
The room of upside down sinners awaits the thief if apprehended by myself and other interested parties.
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