Hotbox Car

 

PSA: Never, Ever Sleep In The Hotbox

I’m commandeering the word ‘hotbox’ (sorry potheads). I am going to redefine it as such:

Hotbox: A car with windows up in crazy heat where a particular idiot takes a nap and boils his brains.

funny face Ehb

This particular idiot

That beanie isn’t a fashion statement. It’s what keeps my brains from boiling out of the pores of my skin after I pull an idiotic stunt like sleeping in my car with windows up and sun blazing down on it. I did this today for the upteempth time. You would think I would have learned by now how bad it is for the grey matter to do this, but nooooooo, I am a creature of ridiculously dumb habits. After a hearty late lunch, I got sleepy carb poisoning syndrome, looked at my car and decided it was time for my beauty nap. I completely forgot that I was in the direct rays of the afternoon sun and when I woke I was gasping, drenched in sweat and had a colossal headache. I sent down half a liter of water in one gulp and quickly threw the door open and elegantly slopped onto the sidewalk to make my escape. As I turned my head to look inside my car, I could see the heat waves emanating from within like a fire demon laughing and making its triumphant exit. Today, I have battled the forces of hellfire in my slumber and clearly, hellfire won. Note to self: I am not Pyro the Amazing Master of Heat and Flame. I’m giving my car a new name: Easy Bake (sue me, Hasbro).

car ablaze

Say hello to Easy Bake

What does this have to do with writing?

Exactly, what does this have to do with writing?

My brain is so addled that I don’t even know. It’s now early evening and I haven’t written a single word till now because of my momentary brain fart lapse in reason. Does a story for your amusement count?

Here’s to a smarter tomorrow.

– Harebrained Rabbit

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