Doing stunts in my very own fast car

My parents had bought me a new car to commemorate some kind of acheivement. Now you have to realize that a) I've never owned a car, b) my parents, simply, don't buy me thinks like that, and c) I don't drive.

So: I had this shiny, black Porsche convertible of my very own. While J and some of our friends enjoyed brunch in this European-type terrace space, I burned around alone in my new car. I got air on stairs. I drove really fast. I had a really super crazy good time.

Then I parked the car and joined everyone at the table. I was looking at photographs of myself driving the fast, black car. Imogen was in the passenger seat. We were flying through the air, our blonde hair waving in the wind.

Suddenly, J said: "I just heard someone drive away in your car. I think your car was stolen."

I used a cell phone to call the (get this) in-car phone. This car thief picked up. He thought I was someone else and explained how he had just stolen this amazing Porsche.

I said: "that's my Porsche and I'm going to call the police. No. I'm going to call my friends who are in a motorcycle gang and they'll do horrible things to you and get my car back."