A buddy of mine got his car stolen a few months ago. Over the weekend, the police called and said they found it and it was waiting for him. It hadn’t been wrecked, but it was out of gas and entirely filled with trash from the joyriders. We carefully cataloged all the trash as we cleaned it out and now YOU get to play detective. Who was it who stole this car?
Obviously we’ve got somebody living a pretty confusing life. He’s writing a screenplay about the life of Jesus while admiring (or wearing) a pony tail butt plug. Somebody is in a tutu. Stay tuned after the jump for the rest (and trust me, it gets even better).
And the two most amazing finds, drum roll please…
AND
- Letter from a debt collector for unpaid LUTHER SEMINARY student loans WITH NAME AND ADDRESS PRINTED ON THE FRONT!!!
Now it’s time for YOU to be the detective. Who stole the car? Was it, and I’m just taking a stab in the dark, the lapsed Lutheran minister who left his debt collector notices and prescriptions in the car? Hard to say.
Whoever it was, he was leading a life of conflict. Go to Mardi Gras or church? Eat ice cream or take care of your diabetes? Wear a mask or a tail? Only your guardian angel can help you decide.
Female condoms are often used by gay male bottoms as a prophylactic that allows them more agency over their safer sex choices.
If this dude invited me to a party I would probably go.
Easy, Paul Constant. Please have him arrested and sent to Gitmo.
“Williams & Fudge” is a great name for a debt collector, or any business for that matter.
It’s meth user SOP to steal cars and use them as drug den/bordellos.
Clearly the thieves didn’t limit their thievery to just your friend’s vehicle — they also burgled a financially-imprudent Christian with bad penmanship, shoplifted a few things from a sex shop, and snagged some ice cream and constipation juice (to mix with the ice cream — a pretty smart idea, actually) from a grocery store.
The Mardi Gras stuff and the tutu were already in the car, but your buddy isn’t prepared to admit this to you just yet, lest you would then assume that the butt-plugs were his, too.
And are you certain there wasn’t a Portland Mercury in there somewhere? No way was this the work of a WW reader.
Worst Night Ever™ Stolen Car Edition.
Who is up next?
Lars Larson, Jack Bogdanski, and Humphrey?
“We found your homework, Larry.”
This is a no-brainer! A tutu, mask and beads, number 2066-01 black leather pony play (with tape on it, as if someone is trying to return it because they’re running out of Karo syrup), debt in the amount of almost 30K, Grandma’s Cake Batter ice cream to soothe the emotional tears of grabbing the wrong female condom pamphlet, and realizing he left out the most important part in his screenplay about Jesus dying “On the cross” of course.
His car was stolen by Dennis Rodman. You need to follow up with the police.
Afraid Rodman has an airtight alibi, Munch. He was busy hanging out with Kim Jong Un at the time, although I still think the butt plug pony play was part of that meetup.
Burners
“Have you seen that reboot of Cannonball Run, directed by Ted Haggard? Yeah, it’s basically nothing like the original.”