The Forbidden Parking Space 

by  HogWild

We head to the Restaurant. It was a Friday Night. It was one of those “in-the-midwest-strip-mall-we-serve-ribs-and-overpriced-margaritas” places. So we knew it would be packed. As I make my approach, readying myself, steadying my nerves for the typical 15 minute hunt for a parking space---- I see it. A glowing light beckoned me. It was---- beautiful. Beyond human comprehension or explanation. All I know is that I was--- drawn to the light. I was pulled in by its pure radiation of goodness and divine holiness. I, OH GOD I SAID I WOULDN’T CRY, BUT, OH GOD!! I, pulled into the BEST PARKING SPOT! Dead center in front of the entrance to the restaurant. And I didn’t even have to use my counterfeit handicap sticker!

As I entered this Virgin Mary of parking spaces I felt my body trembling. My wife had to comfort me, “It’s okay. It’s okay, we’re here now.” Yes INDEED! For the first time, I felt as if I could die, and all would be well. I had accomplished inner peace. My life flashed before my bewildered eyes. And I began forgiving all the sins that mortals had cast against me. I forgave my Dad for bringing home baseball cards everyday for me and thereby causing me to be addicted to the rock-hard slab of gum that came in each pack. 24 cavities later, I forgave him. And it felt good. I forgave my mom for not cooking for me after I reached 3^rd grade. I realized that eating dinner at a different friend’s house each night really built my character. Plus it taught me how to stick out my belly and expose my ribs in the classic “Starvation Posture.” I even forgave my brother for ripping up my 1983 John Stearns’ card in anger. I LOVED that baseball card. And it wasn’t until that precise moment that I realized that John Stearns was only a mediocre catcher on a really bad team and that that card was not worth destroying the fraternal bond of brotherhood. So as soon as I got into the restaurant I left a message on my brother’s answering machine, informing him that my 17 years of silence had ended. 

I replaced my Gold "Cop Killa" Medallions with this Silver Peace Symbol. (It's a joke, nubs, I am adamantly opposed to  killing Police Officers, Crossing Guards, or Squirrels in Uniform.)

So all was good in HogWildLand. Enjoyed a nice meal. Didn’t even get too full like I usually do. In fact, I felt so good about getting that elusive spot, I even ordered a carbonated beverage! And I NEVER do that. Come on, $1.50 for a glass of name brand soda? I’ll take my 79 cent 2 liter of generic orange any day!

So as I had renewed my faith ( I even said my Hebrew prayers before devouring my pork ribs) I felt nice. At one with God. At one with the World. At one with the Universe. At one with ----- what the?!!! As soon as I stepped out of this eatery I saw it! My punishment! Yes, I still had the best spot, but my car, it was covered in bird poop! Was this a sign?!! Is this some sort of message, God? That the spot wasn’t meant for me?! Huh?! Did I accidentally take some other person’s place in Heaven? Was I not meant to get that spot?! I mean, we’re not talking a little bit of kaki, we’re talkin’ I had to peel the poop off with an ice scraper! Totally nizASTY! I bet this was one of the plagues of Ancient Egypt. Frogs, Locust, Bird Crap. Hell, if I was Pharaoh and God sent birds to crap all over MY chariot, I would have let the Jews go a long time ago! 

Geese, the cockroach of the Sky.

So now I know. The good space was not meant for HogWild. I am unworthy. I am not deserving. So if that situation ever arises again, and I’m sure it won’t, I will graciously give up the privilege to some one who truly deserves it. Never me. Never me. BUT I SWEAR GOD, when I die and you send me down to Hell, you know the hot place where the only thing on TV are reruns of Roseanne, I WILL get the forbidden parking space! Oh I WILL! In fact, I will break through the Gates of Heaven and I will park in YOUR space! I don’t care if the sign says “This Space Reserved for Creator.” I WILL have it. You’ll just have to find another spot to park your VW bug!

Actually, God rides shotgun in a pimped out Plymouth.