It seemed like a simple request to Tom.

It seemed like a simple request to Tom. Just move your car so I can get out and we can all get on our way and get on with our lives. But this was not going to be simple.

It would definitely require at least a 3 pt. turnaround to move the car, maybe up to 7 pts., having to avoid "Homeless Stan’s" cardboard residence, the hazardous waste dumpster,

& a fire hydrant. Sara's skills in negotiating higher dimensional spaces were never stellar. She hit all 3 points including Stan's box thus completing a tragic love triangle.

Stan's poor box. So pathetic. Just downright hangdog. It was part of the most disgraceful love triangle since Eddie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds and Elizabeth Taylor.

"What? What the hell happened? How did I get here?" Stan was confused. He hadn't remembered clicking that in his box. The love triangle involving his box confused him beyond

all reason. For one thing, why did he have a box? And why was he in love with it? More perplexing was the fact that his box detested him, and instead was madly in love with

fruit insurance to indemnify himself against any losses resulting from bruising a fruit or fruits. His mother, Agnes, quickly wrote a cheque. The pineapple was not only bruised but

also crushed, its sticky juice dribbling down his arm as he stared, dumbfounded, at what he'd just done. Agnes handed the vendor the cheque & mumbled something about psychosis.

It was not difficult to draw parallels between semen and the sticky juice that had now made its way down his arm.