Listen, you've all heard the term slack-jawed

Listen, you've all heard the term slack-jawed yokel before. Y'know, a country bumpkin? A rambling rutabaga? Cauliflower cousin? A crossroads vanilla bean? Well it's neither here no

r there, up nor down, left nor right, you need to look if your looking for the Univ. for Unqualified Dopes and Assorted Vegatables. It's right here! Behind this hallowed barn door

is the university!" I gasped, and opened the barn doors: the barn was much bigger on the inside, and held a massive university campus, stupid people and vegetables walking around.

I quickly slammed the barn door and sprayed it with gasoline. I threw a match and watched the oily smoke float into the sky. No one should ever see the unholy evil in that

Ford Pinto Hatchback! With a muted swooosh it caught flame and started to darken the sky. I hadn't expected that. From all the hoopla I expected it to explode. Then I remembered,

the burning car was not mine. I owned an AMC Gremlin which was parked on another parking level entirely. Whew! I ran to it as one runs to an old lover in one's dreams. My Gremlin!

This 1973 green car I drove in high school was rusted and smelled like rotted bananas. Once it burned it no longer was there. I woke up and threw out rotted bananas. Life is weird!

Like, there was this other time where I rode a totally rad skate board down this steep hill, right? And it hit this rock that had all sorts of cool sparkly bits in it, and man I

of crystal and gem on my helmet. Now it wouldn't look so dorky anymore. Afterwards, I decided to give my wheels a break and walk back to my house so I could rekindle old thoughts.