I may have posted this on the other site, but for fun, I'll post it again.
I wrote this a number of years ago, and now just added more.
I hope you enjoy!
"I sat in the back seat and decided to smoke some weed on the way to the grocery, It drove me to the police station, and wouldn't let me out, until an officer showed up to unlock it, and arrested me."
I had a falling out with my google car yesterday.
I was on the freeway, and said, Brad (yes, for some stupid reason I named my car Brad, it might be because of a Geico commercial or something)
So I said brad, turn on the radio. Brad asked what would you like to hear?
I told Brad that I'd like to hear some 70's classic rock.
All of a sudden Fleetwood Mac came on with the singing sheep bleating about someone name Sarah, or Reanna or something.
Brad immediately changed it to some death metal rap crap, stating that he hated Stevie Nicks.
One of the most annoying things about Brad is the ♪PING ♫ he makes every time you say his name. It's like, hey Brad, PING, yes, what is it?
Change the freaking station ok? PING, NO! PING.
Seriously, I can't do heavy metal death rap.
PING! How about some nice polyethnic cajun slam grass? PING
No Brad, PING what? PING. Just shut the stupid thing off Brad, PING What? Ping! Turn off the blasted music Brad, PING, what? PING.
Turn off the radio. Ping, ok, ping!
I grabbed a q-tip from out of the console to swab the blood out of my ears having been blasted with 20 gigawatts of high powered rap.
I tossed the q-tip out the window, and Brad scolded me for littering, and threatened to call the highway patrol.
I promised him I'd never do it again.
So after freshly getting the blood out of my ears, I noticed it was starting to get a bit hot inside the car.
Barely halfway home, I said Brad, Ping, what? Ping.
Please turn on the AC. Brad said It's only 75° and told me to quit being a baby.
I begged Brad to turn on the AC. He then located and started playing a speech from Al Gore going on about saving energy and global warming.
I yelled at him, told him to shut it off, and turn on the AC. He responded by cranking up Al Gore to a level that I thought would cause my ears to bleed again.
I screamed, Brad! Shut off the (censored) radio, and turn on the farking AC!
Brad is rather sensitive seeing he has been programmed to understand swear words and can sense rage.
Brad finally offered to put the convertible top down. Being left with no choice, I complied with his suggestion.
Brad turned on the blinker, and proceeded to the shoulder of the road and stopped.
Just as he did, a cop passed us going the other way and did a flip. He came up behind us, and stepped out of his car just as Brad was lowering the top.
The cop asked if there was a problem. Before I could say anything, Brad started telling the story of the AC and Al Gore, and how he was doing the environment a solid by not letting me enjoy AC, and making me drive with the top down.
The cop asked if there was any drugs in the car. Brad told him he didn't think so after previously taking me to the police station where I had been arrested for possession of marijuana, and had to post bail.
But he then told the cop about a bloody q-tip I had thrown out the window 5 miles back.
The cop wasn't interested in looking for a bloody q-tip with the remnants of rap ear blood on it, and decided to issue me a warning for littering.
As the cop was walking away, I yelled, screw you brad! Brad went PING what? Ping.
The cop turned around, and walked back up to me, and asked, What did you say?
I told him that I said nothing, and was talking to my dumbass car.
It was at the same time I noticed the officers name tag on his chest, and to my surprise, it read Brad.
I explained to him that my car was also named Brad. Then the cop asked Brad, is that really your name? Then Brad, lying through the grill of his teeth, replied, no, my name is Bob.
As I was trying to explain to the officer that my car was lying, I saw him place one hand on his firearm, while reaching around his back for his hand cuffs.
He told Brad to shut the car off, and told me to get out of the car, and lay on the ground.
It was at this point the car started laughing maniacally, and told the officer he was just kidding, and was just ******* with him.
The cop wrote me a $150 dollar ticket for having a smart ass car, and told me I was free to leave.
I was glad that Brad didn't tell him about the gun I keep under my seat.
I wrote this a number of years ago, and now just added more.
I hope you enjoy!
"I sat in the back seat and decided to smoke some weed on the way to the grocery, It drove me to the police station, and wouldn't let me out, until an officer showed up to unlock it, and arrested me."
I had a falling out with my google car yesterday.
I was on the freeway, and said, Brad (yes, for some stupid reason I named my car Brad, it might be because of a Geico commercial or something)
So I said brad, turn on the radio. Brad asked what would you like to hear?
I told Brad that I'd like to hear some 70's classic rock.
All of a sudden Fleetwood Mac came on with the singing sheep bleating about someone name Sarah, or Reanna or something.
Brad immediately changed it to some death metal rap crap, stating that he hated Stevie Nicks.
One of the most annoying things about Brad is the ♪PING ♫ he makes every time you say his name. It's like, hey Brad, PING, yes, what is it?
Change the freaking station ok? PING, NO! PING.
Seriously, I can't do heavy metal death rap.
PING! How about some nice polyethnic cajun slam grass? PING
No Brad, PING what? PING. Just shut the stupid thing off Brad, PING What? Ping! Turn off the blasted music Brad, PING, what? PING.
Turn off the radio. Ping, ok, ping!
I grabbed a q-tip from out of the console to swab the blood out of my ears having been blasted with 20 gigawatts of high powered rap.
I tossed the q-tip out the window, and Brad scolded me for littering, and threatened to call the highway patrol.
I promised him I'd never do it again.
So after freshly getting the blood out of my ears, I noticed it was starting to get a bit hot inside the car.
Barely halfway home, I said Brad, Ping, what? Ping.
Please turn on the AC. Brad said It's only 75° and told me to quit being a baby.
I begged Brad to turn on the AC. He then located and started playing a speech from Al Gore going on about saving energy and global warming.
I yelled at him, told him to shut it off, and turn on the AC. He responded by cranking up Al Gore to a level that I thought would cause my ears to bleed again.
I screamed, Brad! Shut off the (censored) radio, and turn on the farking AC!
Brad is rather sensitive seeing he has been programmed to understand swear words and can sense rage.
Brad finally offered to put the convertible top down. Being left with no choice, I complied with his suggestion.
Brad turned on the blinker, and proceeded to the shoulder of the road and stopped.
Just as he did, a cop passed us going the other way and did a flip. He came up behind us, and stepped out of his car just as Brad was lowering the top.
The cop asked if there was a problem. Before I could say anything, Brad started telling the story of the AC and Al Gore, and how he was doing the environment a solid by not letting me enjoy AC, and making me drive with the top down.
The cop asked if there was any drugs in the car. Brad told him he didn't think so after previously taking me to the police station where I had been arrested for possession of marijuana, and had to post bail.
But he then told the cop about a bloody q-tip I had thrown out the window 5 miles back.
The cop wasn't interested in looking for a bloody q-tip with the remnants of rap ear blood on it, and decided to issue me a warning for littering.
As the cop was walking away, I yelled, screw you brad! Brad went PING what? Ping.
The cop turned around, and walked back up to me, and asked, What did you say?
I told him that I said nothing, and was talking to my dumbass car.
It was at the same time I noticed the officers name tag on his chest, and to my surprise, it read Brad.
I explained to him that my car was also named Brad. Then the cop asked Brad, is that really your name? Then Brad, lying through the grill of his teeth, replied, no, my name is Bob.
As I was trying to explain to the officer that my car was lying, I saw him place one hand on his firearm, while reaching around his back for his hand cuffs.
He told Brad to shut the car off, and told me to get out of the car, and lay on the ground.
It was at this point the car started laughing maniacally, and told the officer he was just kidding, and was just ******* with him.
The cop wrote me a $150 dollar ticket for having a smart ass car, and told me I was free to leave.
I was glad that Brad didn't tell him about the gun I keep under my seat.
