A real true story about me

my prob­lem is that i just have too many fer­raris. i am run­ning out of places to put them.

the prob­lem with an ocean side es­tate is that on one side is the pri­vate road, on two sides are ass­holes, and on the fourth side is, well, the ocean. there is no room to build a third garage. i would have to tear out the hedge-maze or the grotto and i refuse. if i had a car el­e­va­tor i could put some of them in the sub-base­ment but that would re­quire a con­struc­tion per­mit that i would never get be­cause the plan­ning com­mis­sion is com­prised solely of en­vi­ous dilet­tantes and dip­so­manic house­wives. i briefly con­sid­ered buy­ing one of the neigh­bors out, but ass­hole num­ber one prob­a­bly hasn’t for­got­ten about that time i shot one of his dogs after it had wan­dered into my grotto and ass­hole num­ber two has a scar­face com­plex and can­not be rea­soned with. so for now, most of them are at a se­cure ware­house in the val­ley. it’s a tragedy. i mean, what is the point in own­ing fer­raris if you can­not walk out to them in your slip­pers and robe, don your dri­ving gog­gles, and then sit in the seat fac­ing the ocean while your gar­dener hides be­hind the car and makes en­gine noises?

A-real-true-story-about-me-tyler-case