Time To Make A “Horsing Around” Joke And Then Hoof It Outta There
CONTENT WARNING: Adult Content
There is a popular sex toy shop in Central Oahu, and several years ago, my friend and I picked up food at the very popular restaurant next door to it. We left with our food and were going to exit the parking lot when a woman in a 1972 Civic jumped in her car and reversed all in one movement without looking, hitting my rear passenger door. There was no damage to the Civic, but my 1997 Nissan Maxima wasn’t built as well, and the door was dented in.
My friend and I got out of the car and observed the damage with the woman. Impressively, there was no paint damage, but the car would still have to go in to repair the dent.
Me: “Well, obviously, I’m going to need your insurance.”
Woman: “Insurance?! Ha! I’m not giving you my insurance for this.”
Friend: “The damage is pretty severe, ma’am.”
Me: “I’ll have to call the police.”
Woman: “Severe?! Ha! Watch this.”
She placed her car keys in my hand, folded my fingers over them, and patted my hand reassuringly before turning and walking confidently into the sex shop. She returned a moment later with a long box and produced a toy modeled after a horse’s anatomy.
Woman: “You get the ones meant for shower tile.”
She held the item up for us and the small group of people who had gathered to see.
Woman: “Industrial suction cup and a long, manipulatable, ergonomic handle.”
Me: “Uhh…”
She slammed it into the dent, suction cup first, and then pulled as hard as she could. With a loud BANG that echoed around the space, the dent pulled out easily, leaving the door as it had been. She pulled out a microfiber cloth and wiped the area down before standing proudly next to it with a smile, much to the amusement of the two of us and the crowd. She then accepted her keys back from me and pointed at me with the toy.
Woman: “You must keep one of these in your toolbox.”
I laughed.
Me: “No. No, thank you.”
Woman: “Am I free to go?”
I walked around to the side of the car and looked closely at the door. Aside from a small scratch and a tiny light ripple — which honestly may have been there before — I couldn’t see anything. At that point, we had owned the car since 1997, when I was in elementary school. I was now in college, and the vehicle was sixteen years and old over 200,000 miles north of that point. After verifying that the window still worked, I stood up.
Me: “Yeah, I’d call this one solved.”
The woman nodded, popped her hatch, and threw the toy into the back of her car with her shopping.
Woman: “Now move. I have to be at a meeting.”
We reversed, and both cars left without further incident.
We recounted the story to our friends in the Student Lounge when we arrived back at school and distributed the food, and to this day, we occasionally tell the story again.
