In a classic case of “what the fuck happened here?” that should no longer surprise me (but still somehow does), I saw the following as I sat at a traffic light on Ventura Boulevard in Encino this past Friday afternoon.
Just in case you still don’t get the gist of this, here’s another half-shot (heh) of the car:
Yup, folks…them there’s bulletholes. Seven, to be exact. We happened to have a camera in the car and commenced to snapping before the light changed and I had to pull off. Still, being the writer that I am—a fiction writer—ever since I drove away, I found myself pondering the possibilities of what must have happened.
Scenarios I’ve come up with so far:
1. A slaphappy environmentalist is driving on the 405 in his cute little Prius on his way to a Greenpeace meeting. He cuts off a rapper in a gas-guzzling H2. Said rapper is exhausted (and blazed) after an all-nighter in the studio and has no time for such fuckery. Chaos and bulletholes ensue…
2. A slaphappy PETA member is driving on the 134 in her cute little Prius on her way to work at NBC and cuts off a big-shot film director in a gas-guzzling Aston Martin. The director’s date is wearing a mink. The slaphappy PETA member gives both the finger. The director’s just been pulled off his current film for going way overbudget and has no time for such bird-flipping fuckery. Chaos and bulletholes ensue…
3. A grim-faced-but-environmentally-conscious Crip passes an equally grim-faced-but-environment- loving Blood on the 101. Both are in Priuses of the same color and, for a fleeting moment, realize they share a common bond. The bangers smile and nod at each other, then suddenly remember their respective roles, frown, and pull out matching weaponry. Chaos, bulletholes, and identical shot-up Priuses ensue…
4. An elderly woman is inside the bank where the car is parked and has no idea the cute little Prius her sitcom-starring son gave her has been randomly shot up by bored, rowdy rich kids during the ten minutes that have lapsed since she’s been inside. Chaos and coronaries ensue…
5. The world’s most aggressive team of repo men attempt to recover the car from the sitcom-starring son after his show is abruptly cancelled. Chaos and lies to his elderly mother about his new job (moonlighting in soft porn) ensue…
6. The car, purchased at a police auction, is spotted by its former owner (an egomaniacal studio exec arrested for soliciting sex from minors on the internet) moments after he’s just been released from jail. Chaos and recidivism ensue…
Help me out here, people. I could do this all day.
4 thoughts on “To Live And (Almost) Die In L.A.”
>hmmmm, maybe it was somebody going after prius owner larry david of "seinfeld" and "curb your enthusiasm" fame. he's pissed off many and with $500 million in the back pocket from "seinfeld", many are jealous too!
>Some asshole guy in an asshole job (investment banker, advertising exec… whatever) falls in love with a hippie barista named Lila at the Starbucks he goes to every morning. She moves in, they're in love, he buys vegan pseudoburgers and takes yoga and buys a Prius. She sleeps with the cashier at Barnes and Noble. In a fit of anti-environmentalist (and anti-Lila) rage, he parks the car in front of the store and shoots it full of holes, then goes to purchase the vehicle with the worst gas mileage he can find so he can finally go back to McDonalds.
>That was SUPERB, J.!!! That great explanation warrants its very own post on the blog. Touche'!!!
>They are decals (stickers), typically seen on redneck vehicles in the South.