“So it says in my contract that I need a better car,” my Dad says.
“I know,” I say, feeling smug. “I read the contract.”
“Hm,” he says. “Obviously I’m not just going to go and buy one so I bought these,” he says, holding up some wheel covers.
“You’re pimping it up then,” I say.
“Yep. And this,” he says, holding up a giant yellow mitt.
“Is that to distract them from your shitty car?”
“Yep, that’s what it’s for.”
