Yenta Killers on Retarded Acrobats

A funny story about my life is that my car was once hit by a midget in another car at an evening showing of Charlies Angels. What was wrong about that? Well, I thought someone else hit my car and I was screaming at them for a few minutes, demanding that if they didn’t come back from walking into the theater I would call the cops.

What I did not know, was that a midget was slowly walking my way, like a shadow in the night. As I began to get even more angry from these supposed assholes who were leaving the scene of an accident, I heard a mysterious voice around my knees say,  ”It was me! I hit you,” as if I was suddenly Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and midgets were popping out of bushes. I looked down at him, held in what was probably the biggest laugh of my life, and the only sentence I could come up with was, “you get you’re registration, I’ll get mine and we’ll trade!” I quickly ran away and it took me about 10 minutes to come back because I was the douche who couldn’t stop laughing.

The point of this story is, if you get involved in a weird situation with a midget, start practicing what you would say. An example would be, “Heeeyyyy….Middgg……et!!”