Disclaimer: Sorry, but I'm broke right now. I don't own anything.
"Traffic Jam"
"Urgh!" Richard plopped down on the couch, frustrated beyond compare. He rubbed a hand through his shaggy dark locks before clenching his jaw once more. He was in a foul mood.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Raven asked as she walked over from the kitchen into the living room with a mug of what-was-once hot tea in her hands. She stood in front of him with her weight shifted on one foot and an expectant look on her face. When he didn't answer her, she gave him a knowing look and started tapping her foot. You know, so he would get the point to either start talking or shut up and forget about it.
"Okay, okay," Richard surrendered and then sighed before he started his tale. "So, the way home from work was really stressful," he stopped as he pinched the bridge of his nose as if it would somehow make this whole situation any better.
"You know that tells me absolutely nothing." She sat next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "So, what happened? Was that the reason why you are late for our anniversary dinner?"
"Rae, give me a break already. It wasn't my fault."
She raised an eyebrow. "I never said it was," she paused and then pried ever so slightly more when he wouldn't reveal what happened. "So what happened? Are you going to let me grow old and die with all this dramatic suspense?" She rolled her eyes.
"Rae, what is this? An interrogation? I'm just having a bad day."
"Well, actually, I feel more like a therapist than an evil crazed military commander bent on extracting information through torturous experiments, thank you very much." She sighed. "Please don't make me resort to that method." She crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him. "'Cause you know I will."
"Yeah, I know." Richard almost chuckled to that response. That was so like her. "Okay, so this is what happened. I was driving home from work. I was going down the highway when there was this huge traffic jam."
"So all this stress is from a traffic jam? Really?"
"Now just let me finish the story, would ya?"
Raven rolled her eyes after giving a huff. "Fine. Proceed."
"Okay, so the traffic was backed up a mile or two. Of course, I didn't see anything but this huge semi cutting through traffic right in front of me to go on an exit that led to a housing development. Weird, right?" Richard looked at her eagerly waiting a response, or any reaction.
"I guess." But this was Raven.
"Well, anyways," Richard gestured emphatically, a little ticked he didn't get more of a reaction from his darling wife, "I didn't notice the dead stop traffic until I passed the ramp. So, I couldn't get off. I was going through all the possibilities." Richard started counting off of his fingers, "Was it a really bad accident that took up four lanes of traffic? Was there crazy random construction during rush hour?"
"I think you can rule that one out. There is no reason for them to do that during rush hour and it is beyond all common sense," Raven stated, logic evident in her voice.
"Since when did what construction workers do make any sense?"
Raven rolled her eyes, not directly admitting that he did indeed have a point. "So you were saying?"
"Well, it turns out that it wasn't even an accident. Well, technically."
"Sooo, what was it?" Raven was tapping her forefinger against her arm in suspense and expectant anticipation.
"You'll never guess." Okay, now Richard was getting a little cheeky.
Raven narrowed her eyes, looking frustrated. "Okay, interrogation is sounding good right about now."
Richard sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you. It was . . ." he leaned in closer to her, pausing for dramatic effect, "a flat tire."
"A flat tire?" Raven was flabbergasted. "On what, a semi?"
"Nope." Richard leaned back against the back of the couch, looking smug.
"Richard," Raven warned, "what could possibly hold up four lanes of traffic due to a flat tire?"
"Ooh, curious much? How badly do you want to know?" Oh, was his cheeky self enjoying this! It wasn't often that Raven was the one prying for information.
"Enough to threaten you with pancakes," her voice was intense, fierce even, but he knew a false threat when he heard it. Richard hummed a childish taunt making Raven roll her eyes at his antics. "Ugh, just get back to the story," she demanded.
"Spoilsport," he muttered under his breath with a slight pout. "It was a flat tire on . . . a hearse."
"A hearse?"
"Yup, there was a funeral procession on the highway, but the hearse had to change a flat tire making the entire mile-long procession stop on the outermost lane blocking two different exits. Can you believe it?" Richard's face lit up, emphatic.
"Oh, yes. The nerve of that hearse driver . . ." Raven rolled her eyes, words overflowing with sarcasm. Then, with a hint of a smirk, she added, "At least he didn't get many complaints from the back seat."
"Ha. Ha. You're hilarious," Richard said with a look of displeasure. She totally ruined the moment.
"Well, you never know. It could've been hearse." This time, Raven's bad pun made Richard sigh.
"Have you been in touch with Garfield or something?"
And that is how World War III started.
All because of a poor, embarrassed hearse driver causing a traffic jam, which in turn caused a anniversary dinner to be ruined, led to some corny jokes, until one joke went too far.
The moral of the story?
Let's illustrate:
A man loved his privacy, so he decided to put a fence around his yard. However, this was no ordinary fence. It was actually made of solid gold. Of course, this got around town pretty fast. In the middle of the night, a teenage boy (hoping to make some fast cash) snuck by, quickly grabbed a piece of the gold fence and turned to run for it. Before the teen could get far, the man took out his rifle and shot him dead. The next night, another young man drove right up to the fence and yanked a piece off the fence. The owner also shot him dead. The night after that, a shrewd man came to the gold fence. Slowly and patiently, he one-by-one took out the screws, unattached the posts, and walked away with the fence unharmed.
The moral?
Always be slow to take a fence.
—The End—
A/N: Okay, in case English is not your first language, or you just don't get my bad!puns, I'll explain them. Raven says, "It could've been hearse", it was meant to sound like "It could've been worse." (A hearse is the car at the front of a funeral procession to the graveyard. It holds the coffin with the dead person in it.) Also, about the "moral", if you say it fast enough, it is said like "Always be slow to take offense".
This story is actually based on a true experience. My Dad was in slow traffic coming home from a business meeting. A huge semi cut right in front of him across three lanes of traffic to an exit for a housing development. That's when . . . it stopped dead. (The traffic, that is.) Turns out, like this experience, a hearse got a flat, went to the outer lane to change it. The procession, wondering 'what in the world is going on?' stopped right behind him, blocking several exits. So, no one could get off the highway or merge.
Well, before I offend anyone, I do not mean to insult any construction worker or overseer. I just find that construction often doesn't make much sense.
And yes, me and my bad puns. That last little anecdote was actually from my Dad. He can spout out these nonsense anecdotes off the top of his head like it was nothing. He told it a lot better though . . . :(
Stay tuned for more stories.
Signed,
Her Sappiness