I realize that you have--how do I say this--an arrangement with your wife. Wherein you both drag home Bar Rats and have wild monkey sex. Which explain the variety of cars lining the street parking space within two blocks of your house at any given hour of the day.

I acknowledge this. While I do not agree with this I am not here to preach you a sermon against herpes and the likelihood of you having them. The problem I have is much simpler. You don't even need a shot of penicillin to cure it. The aforementioned Bar Rats apparently have no idea that parking in front of YELLOW CURBS and entrances to PARKING LOTS and DRIVEWAYS is illegal. If they want to park in front of your driveway, thus blocking in the vehicles of the other Bar Rats and forcing ya'll to have one big Vermin Orgy, fine. But when they park in front of the entrance to MY parking lot, I start having issues.

At first, it wasn't so bad. I'm guessing it was the vehicle of your Favorite Bar Rat, because it was there for four days straight. She didn't park ALL the way in front of the parking lot entrance, just sort of halfway. Fine. Whatever. I used the other entrance.

Now please understand. The other entrance is much more harmful to my tires. When I use the OTHER entrance my tires have a tendency to be soft in the morning. This forces me to drive ten minutes out of my way to go fill them up and check the pressure. I usually have to end up filling them up after work as well. An awful lot of trouble, if you ask me, just so your Bar Vermin can park illegally where they please.

But hey, you have needs, and I'd much rather you be having Vermin Orgy's than peeking through our windows like the 1% sex offender population that resides in our fair town. So. You know. I dealt with it.

Last night, however, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or in a illustration you might be able to understand a little better, the trap has SNAPPED on the snout of the rat. (Or do rat's have noses? I can't remember. SINCE I DON'T HAVE RATS LIVING IN MY HOUSE.)

I come home after a paticularly long day at work. I was tired. I was hungry. I was irritated after spending twelve hours dealing with people like you. I was ready to let children feed their fingers into my shredder. Because, let's face it, if the parents are too stupid to watch them, they probably deserve fingerless children. I realize that last sentence has nothing to do with you, but I just want to paint you a vivid picture of how FREAKING PISSED OFF I WAS. Ahem.

I turn to pull into my parking lot eagerly anticipating the hot cup of tea I will drink once I finally reach my home. But wait! I cannot turn into the parking lot because the vehicle of your Bar Rat blocks it. Mildly irritated, I pull up to the second entrance. Wait! Yet other vehicle of another ill mannered Bar Rat.

All the frustration came raining down upon me at once. I wanted to immediately jump from my car, pull out my handy pocket-sized numchucks and beat the car senseless. I wanted to key the paint and then pour tar over the hood. I wanted to rip the heads of baby dolls and scatter them throughout the interior. I then wanted to leave a sweet gilt note under the windshield "Next time, learn how to PARK YOUR EFFING CAR."

But I didn't. I contained my rage and DROVE OVER MY GRASS to get to my parking spot. All because you needed a good vermin orgy. And I didn't do it because I love you. I did it because everything I wanted to do was illegal. That being said, if the air starts mysteriously leaking out of the tires of the aforementioned cars, it wasn't me.

All my love,

Porkchop.

PS. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood! (Please don't be mine!)

PSS. I have nobally avoided making jokes--for the moment--that your given Christian name is "Woody". But this doesn't mean I haven't spent much time laughing about it.