Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Dear my truck,
my car. my precious. my blue, half-ton girlfriend.

i know i've been treating you bad... running you ragged more like.

i can hear you beg for my attention.

the cry of the rear differential makes my heart break.

and those worn out tires... i'm sure you'd like something without a slow airleak, and perhaps the balding embarasses you...

awww.... i'm sorry babygirl.

well i'll take goo care of you tomorrow after i get the funds from the biggity-bank... we'll head over to EZ Lube, and get you all done up.

maybe even get your transmission fluid did.

and if you're good, maybe i'll buy you a car wash.

HAHAHHAHA... we both know that was a lie. don't we?

btw, i've been meaning to ask you. what is the deal with super premium gasoline at the gas station?

super gas?

that's a totall fucking scam innit?

i mean only a fool doesn't realize that it's all the same fucking gas. just clever marketing really.

anyways. i hope the garage cats don't bug you. i know how you hate to get their prints on your windshield.

oh and sorry for that rotting fast food smell.

i'm trying to find where that hell that's coming from, i promise.

your good pal, and favorite operator

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Tony Pierce