I Know How You Feel

Last night was just like any other. Margaret, on her way to see the Merry Pranksters was already feeling good by the time she got behind the wheel of her Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon. Margaret was on her third six-pack of Red Stripe when she came barreling off 264 onto Bardstown Rd. She made a stop at Twig and Leaf to allay herself. As Margaret pissed she thought she might get tired at the show. "Do you have any Tina?" Margaret asked a girl in the restroom. The girl was in disbelief as to what she just heard.
"Uh, uh. I ain't got no meth. You want a yellow jacket?" Asked the noticeably trashy girl. Margaret swallowed the yellow jacket with ease, smoked a menthol cigarette, drank two more beers, and started back down the road.

BOOM! CLING! CLANG! JAMSLAMJAMBAM! BABABABABABABBAMBAM!

"Fuck! My bike!" "Oh no! My sportster!" "No!No!.NO!"
Margaret had veered off to the right just as she approached Whisky Bob's and wiped out all of the motorcycles parked outside! Margaret couldn't help but laugh. She was hysterical. "Don't y'all think this outlaw bit's done got out of hand?" She asked a man who was irate.
Margaret ignored the angry antics as she picked up the pieces to her wooden paneling. Minutes later uniformed police officers arrived at the seldom scene. As the cops began questioning witnesses Margaret asked, Can we speed things up? I have a Broker's Exam in the morning. Just then, Margaret's coworker, Scott Galkin pulled up at the repugnant scene. "Uh hey Margaret, uh, did you do all this? You're a big drinker aren't ya?" He asked. Margaret just stared off into the unknown realms of her polysaturated mind.
The police handcuffed Marge and placed her in the back of the cruiser. She was taken to lockup where she would be placed on a $5000 bond. After making her call to her millionaire beau and attorney Charlie Rickets, Margaret was led to a cell. "This place is nothing like San Quinton," laughed Margaret as she pulled out an electric razor and began to shave her inner thighs.
After her brief, but memorable stay at the jail, Margaret left feeling like she had lost her place in society. She arrived home to find that her electric had been cut off. As she reached the top of her steps in complete darkness, she tripped over her toaster/curling iron/electrolysis machine along with the tariff book she stole from UPS. Margaret went over to the phone to find out what needed to be done to obtain her Roadmaster from the impoundment lot. She requested that the car be towed to English Station Body Shop so that the damage could be assessed. Now Margaret needed a ride to the shop. She called her longtime friend and aircraft parts specialist, Kchauffeurburn. Kacie agreed to chauffer Margaret to the main body shop center after she got her chicken nuggets and sauerkraut out of the front yard.
On the way to the body shop, Margaret had a thought; she was tired of being a rater. "Kacie, how different can an airplane be from a car?" Questioned a pseudo-sophisticated Margaret. Always one to encourage, Kacie told Margaret that she should apply for a grade ten. "Forget about that broker's exam. $200 sounds like a scam to me anyway. Nobody passes," chuckled Kacie.
Margaret was in dismay when she got wind of the price to repair her vehicle. "I'm divorced. Any UPS discount you could give me would be tremendously appreciated," she boomed. The estimator ignored Margaret's requests. She had no choice but to fix the car she so dearly esteemed. She got a rental car and went home to sit in the darkness.
Margaret felt so jittery on her way home. "If only I had something to serve the nerves," she thought to herself. She stopped by the home of a man she used to smoke marijuana with. He wasn't home, but she felt he owed her for all the times she got intimate with him and didn't enjoy his company. Margaret busted his sash, went in his basement, and chiseled open the lockbox he kept his "smoke of hell" located in. She quickly smoked four joints, extinguishing each one on the luxurious furniture she had once faked orgasms on. She sprayed the word "PUD" on the gentleman's front lawn with weed killer before vanishing into the night in her nimble rental car.