Point-Counterpoint (Buick vs. Dumpster)

1996 BUICK REGAL

For me, life is a wondrous sport of moving and stopping. I live to feel the wind blow over my hood and windshield as I transport my human cargo from Point A to Point B. I thank the Lords each day for my human companions. My elderly former owner taught me that. Now I have a new, inexperienced teenage owner driving me! Something strange has happened, recently. I can’t help but wonder how my left driver’s side door got damaged. Perhaps my teen driver has already taken notice and will take care of me. Oh, shucks! Of course he will! I wonder, though, why he has not driven me much lately. Oh well, I’m sure he’s busy with Bible study or reading to the elderly ... or something just as nourishing for his splendid attentive soul. I try to inspire others to glorious pursuits. Why, last month I met an exciting green dumpster at my teen driver's high school. We had a wonderful conversation. I could tell he was down in the dumps, so I did my best to cheer him up. I tried to convert it to Christianity. Oh my! Did I just make a joke? “Dumps!” Goodness be! Ha ha ha! Times are so blessed, aren’t they?

HIGH SCHOOL DUMPSTER

Life is not a joy, nor does it have a beginning or an end. My existence is measured in units of filth and there’s no amount of soap, water, or proselytizing that can clean the putrid horror that has soaked deep into my soulless pit of dumpsterdom. I remember meeting that unbearably cheerful Buick Regal last year. The dreadful terrified look on the face of the pitiful teenager in the driver’s seat almost made me smile as he slowly, with excruciating shock, gouged the vehicle’s shiny gleaming driver’s side door against my stinking, rusty metal fuselage. The screeching, tearing sound of the shiny red metal against my disgusting green frame was delicious! Oh, so many teenagers have delivered me their detritus over the years without so much as a corresponding glance, or god forbid, a signal of gratitude! I would like to go into more detail regarding some of the items they have hidden into my dark, gaping maw, but ... even I can be disgusted. My, my, my … what would their parents think? The day I was able to leave my mark on that insanely gleeful religious nut of a Buick was the day I felt inspired to laugh. Too bad I cannot.