Bob: Uhhh, dear -- your car is almost out of gas. I'd better fill up before we get to the restaurant.
Joyce: No, the gauge is still above the E.
Bob: But the fuel light's on and it's on the E from where I sit.
Joyce: Don't worry. It's okay.
Bob: Well okay, if you say so -- that sure takes away all my worries.
Joyce: If we run out of gas, you'll never let me hear the end of it, will you?
Bob: No, quite the contrary -- I'll always let you hear the end of it. And I don't see end being good if we don't get gas pretty soon.
Joyce: No, the gauge is still above the E.
Bob: But the fuel light's on and it's on the E from where I sit.
Joyce: Don't worry. It's okay.
Bob: Well okay, if you say so -- that sure takes away all my worries.
Joyce: If we run out of gas, you'll never let me hear the end of it, will you?
Bob: No, quite the contrary -- I'll always let you hear the end of it. And I don't see end being good if we don't get gas pretty soon.
5 comments:
Joyce, honey!
When it comes to gas, Bob knows all!
Roses--
Methane is my specialty. (But Joyce married me in spite of that.)
now if it was the plymouth, I'd be on the panic button because I don't trust that gas gauge. We ran out of gas on our first tank when the gas tank read 1/4 full.
You left out the lightning, and the rain, and how I did point out the Texaco, and the Shell and the Valero stations...
And you left out your snickering at your own writing. I am so glad you can amuse yourself.
Poetic license, my dear. One has to edit out extraneous details.
We once test drove some little car that the dashboard was made where the passenger (me) could not see the gas guage or the speedometer. My husband really liked that.
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