It finally being spring, the other day I was in the garage sweeping detritus from one side to the other and back. (I occasionally think of myself as efficient but recognize that my definition of ‘efficient’ may differ somewhat from other people’s.) when 1686 kilograms of high explosive pulled up to the curb.
I say that but I’m guessing on at least two levels. First of all, that weight only applies to certain models and I didn’t look carefully enough to know exactly which model was sitting at the curb. Secondly, I don’t know that it was composed entirely of high explosive. All I know is that the manufacturer named it after an (incredibly powerful) high explosive. While I’m too cynical to assume that there’s anything like truth in packaging from any corporation, they wouldn’t name it after something that blows up unless, you know…
The neighbour (Not The Neighbour — a different one. Shorter. And, like, a girl.) approached the car.
I probably should have warned her.