Lila couldn't remember where she parked, in general.
Specifically, she put her key in the wrong Camry, and it worked. She started to drive away, but stopped when a man belly-flopped onto the hood, his eyes ringing with consumer terror. Through the glass, she read the obscenities from his lips and forgave him vigorously for denting her hood. She mouthed an apology, and returned his car to a similar parking spot. He said his name was Alan.
After the hood dent was pulled—she paid for half, over pad thai—and they were married, she drove his Camry all the time, and often forgot where she parked it, even while she remembered the story or lost her keys.
Usually, Lila didn't forget where she parked their house. Looking everywhere, she found some keys in his pocket. No key worked so she turned around, tripping over a bush that shouldn't have been there, and caught her balance in a patch of wet paint on the side of the house. She didn't like the tone, but coping was easier when she realized it wasn't her house, or her smudged jacket.
It took her a while to get home from there, but after her and Alan were divorced, the wrong house went up for sale, and repainting. She bought it with her share of the assets, and moved in. She had her own keys made, and tossed his into the bush.
So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage leaf to make an apple pie;
and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street pops its head
into the shop. "What! no soap?" So he died, and she very imprudently
married the barber; and there were present the Picninnies, and the Grand
Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top, and they all
fell to playing the game of catch as catch can, till the gunpowder ran
out at the heels of their boots.
-- Samuel Foote
This page was last modified on 2011 December 20. "Parked" by John Sullivan is Copyright ©2003 - 2011, and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.