Wounds That Never Heal
Yesterday Brad came up to me and said he knew my car; a bold claim for sure. He said he remembered what it said on my insurance card. I obviously wasn’t going to fall for such a weak bluff. I simply pointed out that if Brad knew what I owned then he’d be shouting about it; sound logic for sure. Except that’s not how I know he didn’t catch the car on my insurance slip… for that we has to go back. Back before I started documenting these stories. Back before much of Team Troll left the shop. Back when a much wilder and less experienced Sneakors was just organizing Team Troll. A time when I presumed the unicorn, in all its majesty and splendor, would be found within weeks or days rather than years. We has to go back for context.
On a particular day Brad was talking over his recently acquired V6 Ram. A truck which his parents effectively shoehorned him into and before saddling him with the bill. He was waiting for his insurance card to come in the mail; apparently this was going to take weeks. I questioned him on the matter because my insurance company happens to be competent and simply lets you print off your own cards at home… instantly. To prove this I pulled out my phone case, removed a small insurance card from it, held it in front of him for a good 10 seconds, slid it away, and then noted that I had showed him my insurance card. He was gutted the moment he realized what had happened. He was so distraught that he everyone about it, but when I showed my card again my swoll fingers covered up strategical bits of information.
Now you is a cute girl and you knows you has to sit through being reminded of your cuteness before you gets your conclusion. Today is no exception cuz you is cute, you knows you is cute, and you needs to admit to the cutieness. That being said you is no doubt very surprised by my careless nature. I suspects you would respond something; ‘coot coot cootie coot Sneakors how did u almost let everything unravel so easily coot coot.’ To get that answer we has to go back… but not that far back. Like a day or two back; a short trip from here really.
When I got Sport he did not appear as the sparkling unicorn that he is known to be. In something out of a sickeningly sweet fairy tail all the true beauty stuffs was hidden under a layer of damage and poor care. But much like a Cootules I knew there was this beautiful creature deep down that had to be loved on and coaxed out. However in Sport’s case this involved a trip to the body shop and then the title came up missing so Sport was a door stop for over 3 months. During this time I had full licence to borrow my mom’s Premium Mustang GT. And in this case ‘full licence’ includes permission as well as having my own insurance card.
Obviously Brad doesn't know this. Hes aware there was a sudo-legal battle for the unicorn’s title, however the dates and details have remained elusive for him. To this day he thinks that Sport’s insurance was held in his face and he missed his shot. I know your response here; ‘-Insert more Cootules is cute comments- Sneakors this is actually a fairly mundane conclusion; why does Brad even remember this or care?’ What Brad thinks doesn't matter. What’s really important is what everyone else thinks. To this day he is regularly roasted, we are talking pig on a stick over an open bonfire, by other people who are not on Team Troll. He is known by peers and managers alike as the guy who had the answer in his face and looked away. To this day he still flashes back to a wild and elusive Sneakors holding up a card, but he can’t quite make out what it says in the fragments of his mind.
