My Spork Thinks He's Batman II

First and foremost, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESSA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, yesterday, I asked you, what's a girl to do? Last we knew, I was incredulously standing, staring at the moron **cough cough** Jessa** who decided that sticking a SPORK in my gas tank was a good idea. THEY LET GO OF IT. They let it go. . . . . . . . . . to float in the depths of who knows what, deep in the confines of MY GAS TANK. I didn't know what the possibilities could be. . . . . . . but surely heat, plastic, and fuel lines are a BAD mix.

So, what's a girl to do? I did the first thing that occurred to me. I called Jessa a moron. I called her a moron in SEVERAL colorful terms, all of them, of course, completely lady-like. *cough cough* Our thoughts then turned to finding out exactly how big of a problem we had.

Who's the first person we called? KYOTKGUY, right? Umm, no. . . . . .not so much. I was peeved that she put a SPORK in my gas tank, and she didn't exactly want him knowing that she had done so, I went along with this whole "Let's not tell him" thing. **Bad idea number two** So, Jess called her father. . . . . . . and I called mine. Both military mechanics. . . . . . . . . . both oughta know, right? Well, her father LAUGHED at us. Mine chewed me out for allowing her to put a spork in my gas tank. . . . . . after he laughed at us. One told us it was a REALLY bad idea, and we needed to have the tank dropped, cleaned, and put back in. Well, greattttt. . . . . . Sarina needed to get to class, NOW.

The other told us to just fill the tank up, completely, and run it. . . . . . . . . . that the plastic would either melt and be filtered out, no issues. . . . . . . . . . . or we'd have big problems. Just depended.

Now, that sounds like the PERFECT solution, no? Run it! It may be ok, or may it may explode in a HUGE, awesome, dramatic ball of fire! Hoorah!

Now, for Jessa, that just wasn't enough advice. Oh, no. . . . . . . . . she had to ask every mechanic friend she had in the country, and if they were male, well, surely they knew SOMETHING about cars. *growls* Long story, short, the car needed to be filled with gas and ran, and we needed to just take the gamble.
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So, little miss I-Put-a-Spork-In-Your-Gas-Tank-and-I-Don't-Want-KYOTKGUY-To-Know decides to be REALLY smart about this whole thing. . . . . . . .not only does she tell everyone in the ENTIRE country what she did. . . . . . . . . . she posted it as her Yahoo! status. *grins*

Now, doesn't that seem like a REALLY smart idea? To post a "secret" as your STATUS? So. . . . . . KYOTKGUY sees this, and he asks her what it means. I'm sitting back laughing as she's trying to explain to him EXACTLY what her status meant, and her part in all of this, and exactly why he was JUST finding out about it, and so on and so forth. I'm sitting back, smirking, thinking, "Huh, shoulda told him to start with. Serves you right."

Uh-huh. Now, you'd think that since SHE was the criminal mastermind in all of this, and since it was HER idea, and SHE decided not to tell him, that SHE would be the one to get spanked for this whole thing, right? You'd TOTALLY think that.

Well, it didn't exactly work like that. No, of COURSE it didn't' work like that. That would have been TOO EASY. Nope. Guess who got spanked over it.

ME. Yep, that's right. Poor little innocent bystander, watching this whole proceeding. Me. I got spanked. Something about running it out of gas in the first place, and not knowing where I could have ran out of gas, and pushing the edges of safety, and never having a problem with a spork, or Jessa's hair-brained ideas if the car hadn't been been that low on gas, etc etc etc. Something about accepting ultimate responsibility. All I could see, though, is that there was a spork in my gas tank!

Jessa got off SCOT-FREE in this shenanigan. Not a single swat. That, my friends, is the tale of cruel irony. . . . . . . . . and the tale of. . . . . . . My Spork Thinks He's Batman. :-D

P.S. The Saturn was just fine. We filled it up, and ran it up and down the 65 corridor at a completely legal rate of speed. The spork did not go flying through my fuel lines, mucking everything up. No Saturns were harmed in the making of this story.