It Was All The Shoes Fault

Usually my drive home from work is a chance to unwind, relax, take a nap... okay, well, at least I can relax. Tonight, however, was, um... not relaxing.

Two months ago, my thoughtful wife decided to christen my new car (not new, it's my brother's Tempo... but compared to the turd with wheels I had before, it's a friggin' Caddy) with my son's first pair of shoes. She hung them with care from the rear-view mirror, like fuzzy dice. Cute, but I always seemed to be bumping into them.

Tonight, as I got on the Meadowbrook Parkway, I lit a cigarette, then turned up the CD player. As the on-ramp curved, the CD case on my dashboard started sliding. I instinctively reached to stop it... with a lit cigarette in my hand. The head of the cigarette hit the dangling baby shoes, causing a shower of lit embers to spray around.

While trying to keep in my lane, I quickly looked down to see if any lit ashes were around. Being dark, I immediately saw a lit ember behind my foot. I stamped it out, and saw nothing else around. Whew, right? Lesson learned, right? Um, no.

About 10 seconds later, I smelled something burning. I figured it was the after-effect of the ashes on the floorboard, but, a few seconds later, an extremely sharp, burning pain eminated from... my...

Yep. My balls were burning.

I jumped up in my seat, frantically swatting at my crotch and the seat, as I nearly swerved into the next lane. More lit embers went onto the floorboard. In desperation, I grabbed my open soda can, and doused my guys. Well, fire extinguished... but now I look like I had another kind of accident. I felt down my pants, and felt a fresh burnhole directly underneath my multiply-traumatized testes.

I got home, eager to change out of my soaking-wet pants. As I walk into the door, I'm greeted by my wife. And 6 of her friends that came over. With soaking-wet pants. With a burnhole on the bottom of my crotch. With a stinging pain still eminating from the bottom of my sac.

At least I provided entertainment with my attempted explanation. Perhaps I should have just told them that I peed myself.

As for the car... well, besides a nice little scorch mark on the seat (a wet seat), no damage.

Damn shoes. It was all the shoes' fault, I tell ya.