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BEN HUR, TX The mood was
somber at Rico’s Southwestern Tavern last night, as five men came together to mourn the
lost youth of David Chambers, whose wife forced him to buy a
minivan.
“Look at that thing!” Chambers exclaimed, sorrowfully pointing to
the burgundy Dodge Caravan in the parking lot. His friends noticed the glimmer of a tear
in his eye. “Julie says it’s better for the kids, but what about me? It’s so
embarrassing to be seen in that thing!”
Chambers and his friends then
fondly reminisced about the good old days—back when they were in high school and college,
when they drove cars that looked cool and went really fast and required constant
attention.
“I remember when Julie decided that we needed a four-door. She
said we’d be able to get the baby seat in and out of the back seat easier.” Chambers put
his head in his hands and sobbed, “I should have known that it was the beginning of the
end.”
His friends all nodded sympathetically, expressing their
understanding of this difficult situation. And they, too, glanced mournfully out into
the parking lot, each shaking his head at his own Dodge Caravan.
“This is
it,” sniffed Chambers. “She’s stolen every last bit of manhood from me. Not only can I
no longer zip around town, speeding by arrogant teenagers and enjoying the admiring
glances of young women, but now I have to ride around town in a gigantic tank filled with
coloring books and crayons and juice boxes, listening to Sharon, Lois, and Bram songs
over and over on the tape player. It’s so emasculating,” he said as his voice faded
away.
And with that, the men ordered another round of caffeine-free diet
colas and toasted to the good old days.
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