I've been a little ticked off recently, because last week I was walking out of the local movie theatre and noticed that the door next to the driver's seat on my car was gone. Somebody had stolen my car door. The first feeling I had when I saw it, was shock. Who the hell would steal a car door? I mean how obnoxious is that? If I can't find a reason for somebody to walk up to a car and rip a door off of it, no one can. Realizing this, I began feeling angry. Angrier and angrier. Every day, I kicked myself for not going to see an earlier show, because if I did I would have been able to see at least a glimse of the car door thief's face, then I wouldn't have had to go through such pain and agony. then, I began to think about who this thief was, on the inside. Maybe, he was a man no different from you and me. Maybe, like me, he had his car door stolen. I started to think that maybe his expeirience was even more scary and painful. Maybe, his door was stolen while he was in the car! Imagine if you were sitting in traffic and he you see this big, sweaty, muscular grease head with his eyebrows arched speed walking right towards towards you and then rips the door off the damn car! and he goes,

"Gimme' this, I'm taken it. Don't follow me."

I can just see my car door theif's eyes looking up at his theif in terror, wouldn't he at least lock the door. It would be easy, you see a scary guy running up to you in traffic, you at least have the enstinct to lock the door. But those eyes of terror will quickly turn into anger, but of course it has to be too late. He looks up and the guys gone. This has all happened to us, when were angry at someone we can't take it out on, we take out on somebody else. This guy is angry at the world now, so while I'm enjoying so comic genius in the local cinema, he goes up to my car and BLLLYYYYRRR, he takes the door. It was a common mis-understanding. He brings my door to his car and slamms it into his empty driver's side. He's kicking it and jumping on it. BOOM! BANG! He's screaming so loud.

"You think you can take my door without noticing, I don't think so. I hate the world!"

He looks at the car and the door is a light greenish colour and the rest is a strong dark red. He's observing it going,

"Wait, wait, wait, this doesn't add up at all. I HATE YOU!!!" he's not even yelling at anyone, just shouting at the clouds.

"I hate you, you freakin' cloud!" people are looking at him from the sidewalk with their kids.

"Don't stare honey, the man just wants it to rain."

It doesn't end there. The guy goes on a rampage. He goes and robbs a convience at gun point. I'm not gonna follow in that guy's footsteps. I'll keep my cool. Not because of the criminal behavior and the possibility of being arrested, but because I don't wouldn't know what to steal at the convenence store. The cash register only has change I'm not gonna sticka gun in a guy face for a couple of toonies and loonies. I look around and there's nothing worth stealing there. Then, I make up my mind. I stealing some mint gum. The reason for this is because I despise the companies that make mint gum. You know why? Because those jerks are frickin liars! They tell you that there is twelve peices of gum in the damn packet, but technicly there's only eleven. In every packet they have, there is a small hole in the cover, exposing the look of the gum. You look a the peice of gum that's showing through the hole and you cannot eat that peice of gum, I'll tell you why, for show, it as easy of that. You go and put that packet full of one peice of gum in the bread box with all the rest of the packets. Andd then when you feel like you wants some gum, you go to get it from the bread box, but then you start to wonder,

"How long has this been in here?" is it safe to eat this? "Am I going to die if I begin to chew this?"

I am not going to eat this if it's been here for 8 months, so you throw it in that one peice in the garbage. So techniicly, there's only eleven peices. That's why I won't buy mint gum. I can't satisfy those jerks. But have you ever taken a look in the bread box? Oh my gosh, What is in there? I geuss the question is, what isn't in there? It's disgusting. You can't put bread in a bread box. Oh no that cant be done. You put the bread in the linen basket on the kicthen counter, so you know where it is. If you were to put bread in the box, you'd lose it. You wouldn't be able to find it. It would sit there waiting for you you to find it. You would walk around the house wondering what that bad smell is. You have company over and no one wants to come back because of the horrible oddur. The smell is so bad, you start neglecting people and hitting them over the head with pepsi bottles. Not beer bottles, you may be annoyed by the smell, but you know your not a murderer. There are some smells that make people become serial killers, but not bread rotting in the bread box. Finnaly, you remember where you put the bread and you go to open and BOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Your house explodes, leaving you having learned a valuable lesson. NEVER PUT BREAD IN A BREAD BOX. I once looked in my disgusting bread box and i was terrified. This was of course long after i learned the horrors of putting bread in a bread box. The amount of thing that were in it was astounding! There were a bunch of old deoderant sticks, some cds that were broken in half after my freind came for a visit one day and drove a pickup truck over my entire cd collection, all my old wallets that I parted from long ago (actually there was alot of left-over money in those wallets, I had enough to buy myself and the whole cast of Heroes dinner and I hear that Masi Oko can eat, but I can never be sure) and of course a bunch bowls of saugy cereal from my "Just drink the milk but leave the cereal in for flavour" phase (that was a very dark period in my life, I would try to throw the ceral in the garbage and then wash the bwol, but I found that it was to hard to get the ceral out of the bowl to put in the garbage. It may have been saugy, but that ceral was rock hard). That bread box haunted my dreams forever. It was very scary. It was like one of those haunted houses at the town fair. I was thinking like,

"Where's the creepy red neck with the beard that makes sure I know that he doesn't like his job, ready to the cart that me and my companion sit in nervously into the ride, like I suspect he does to dead deers and jack rabbits, only into his pick-up truck that the car companies stopped making years ago, but he got a good deal on it."

Honestly, i wanted to climb into that bread box and get into a squeky little cart with my good friend hank, because that's my favourite part of the fair, the haunted house, you know what I'm talking about. You get pushed into the ride, you're a little scared, don't know what what's gonna happen. It's very dark. Picth black. All you can hear is the creeks in your cart. You turn to your friend, trying to be cool and say,

"I can barely see my hand in front of my face, this is frickin ridiculous." You see a person walking beside your cart, you think he's gonna a scare you, so wacthing him like a frickin fox, ready for him to yell "BOO" at you, but it turns out he's just patrolling the ride, making sure everything's A okay. The dialougue between you and you your friend is getting more and more intense.

"I do not like this one frickin bit."

"Then why the frick did you frickin go on it in the frickin first frickin place?"

"Well, sor-frickin-ry, I didn't frickin know that you were the fricking owner and frickin creator of the frickin ride?" Then, the lady with her 5 year old in the cart behind you gets in on the dialougue,

"Would you gentlemen stop using curses in front of my son, Jack. Ronald. Fitsgerald, please?"

"Why don't you shut the frick up lady? We're just going on on with our frickin daily frickin conversation and you come barging in like you're some kind of king that's pretending to be a woman. And what kind of self respecting mother takes her 5 year old into a haunted house? I hate you. You should have daily meetings with a socail worker." Then, all of a sudden you hear one of those fake screams on the loud speakers. It's just kind of sounds like a fairy being abducted. You think to your self,

"That's so unrealistic," then, you start to think that maybe it is a real scream. Maybe a fairy went on the ride before us and they're torturing it at the back of the ride. You start screaming these horrible thoughts that terrify everyone around you.

"How do you we get off this ride? Wait a minute, do you get off this ride? They're not gonna let us get off this ride!!!!! They're going to kill us!! Did anyone see an exit sign out side the ride? How the hell do we know that we'll get off the ride if nobody saw an exit sign. WE're going to frickin DIEEEEEEEE!" Little Jack. Ronald. Fitsgerald is behind you you crying his eyes out and everyone is very disturbed by your thoughts. Your friend turns to you and is like,

"Dude, calm down," you get angry with and begin screaming so the people outside can hear you.

"Calm Down?!!!!!!!!! Calm Down?!!!!!!!!!! I will NOT CAlm DOWN!!!!!!!!! ACTUALLY I'll tell you when I'll FRICKIN CALM DOWN, (I hate when you make a mistake in a fit of rage) I'll FRICKIN CALM DOWN WHEN SOMEONE TELLS ME THAT THEY SAW A FRICKIN EXIT SIGN, THAT"S WHEN I"LL FRICKIN CALM DOWN!!!!!!!! DID ANYONE SEE A FRICKIN EXIT SIGN?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Then, you see a light and your cart pull into the sunshine and your very embarrased. You're just about to get out of the cart, when you that the door on your cart is gone.