PART SEVEN

After their day at the mall Pooh drove them home so they could get ready to go to the Ritz Carlton.

Sveta had her arm draped around Pooh."I like being American woman. I want to stay here. I want to lean how to drive."

"I guess I could give you a little driving lesson," Pooh said. Pooh pulled off to the side of the road.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shostakovich exclaimed.

"Teaching Sveta how to drive," Pooh replied.

"But she has no driver's license. She's illegal." Shostakovich pointed out.

"I don't have a driver's license either," Pooh replied. "The cops are too busy taking care of the housing projects in Detroit. They won't bother us."

"Me drive," Sveta said and stuck her tongue out at Shostakovich. "Me drive like American woman. Me American just like Demi Moore!"

Pooh and Sveta switched places and ignored grumblings from Shostakovich. Pooh admitted that he did help with the language barrier, but he still was awful annoying. Pooh couldn't fondle Sveta with another man watching. Though he disagreed with Sveta driving, Shostakovich had no choice but to translate the driving lesson.

"Keep your foot on the brake and put the car into drive," Pooh commanded. Shostakovich repeated this but Sveta still didn't know what a brake was. As she slid the gear into drive she pushed all the way down on the accelerator. The car took off down the road. Sveta began screeching and took her foot off the accelerator. Pooh tried to grab the wheel but Sveta's hand's flailing around prohibited this. The Maserati whirled off of the road and went rolling down into a ditch. The car rolled over at least four times before coming to a stop upside down in a cornfield. Steam sizzled up from the engine. Sveta began crying and Shostakovich coughed.

"Oh bother," muttered a shocked Pooh Bear.

"This why I didn't want her driving," Shostakovich said. "Russian Romance is not responsible for this. Don't expect us to pay for damages."

"Damages?" Pooh asked. Pooh undid his seat belt and rolled out of the car through the broken windshield. "Oh no," Pooh gasped. The car had landed upside down. The whole roof was caved in. The back end was all crushed and beat us. Headlights were missing. The front had a huge crease in it. All the windows were shattered. A tire was missing. The Maserati was totaled.

"Oh Roo," Sveta cried as she and Shostakovich hobbled out of the car. Shostakovich was grabbing his arm in pain. Sveta had cuts on her face and was limping. Pooh's nose was bleeding, and he had a gash on his forehead. "I'm so sorry I hurt the automobile. I hurt your automobile." Tears poured down her face.

"Uh it's not my car," Pooh muttered.

"You have it insured don't you?" Shostakovich asked.

"It's not my car," Pooh replied.

"What do you mean?" Shostakovich demanded. "Who's car is it?"