Motor Oil Madness

by Melissa
(Vancouver, BC)

Jaala needs a repair on her bike or sadly, a new bike. Gert, the bike in question, has been spitting out oil at every moment. We know what is wrong. We cannot fix it ourselves, but we know what the problem is. For some reason, Jaa’s hubby, always a complete pain about her and that bike is refusing to pay for any repairs and for some reason, her own money is spoken for on yet another half-baked, hair-brained idea he has had. Never one to be left out of the half-baked or the hair-brained, Jaa has developed a case of what we have all started referring to as Motor Oil Madness. We think the problem might be terminal this time.

She has come up with some way-out-there, over-the-top ideas in the past, but now, she is just relentless. She won’t stop. If there is a mention of a possible way to make a few bucks, Jaa is on top of it. She is going to save poor Gert if it kills her, and it might. I or another of her friends may end up killing the woman. She had a lemonade stand, an adult lemonade stand. Okay, I should have known when she called and in her most vulpine of all voices asked how much limoncello I had. It did not dawn on me that this was a bad idea until I was already near her home, a milk crate or two of my potent but delicious potable. She was bouncing around the sidewalk, what looked like a child’s lemonade stand set up and everything. Soon we were mixing lemontinis and lemon love potion and lemon drops. She was making a price list. She even had little swizzle sticks to add to the drinks. We had made about twenty bucks when the local police showed up. Apparently selling lemon flavored liquor to people without a license is a major no-no. I smiled my brightest smile, batted my eyelid and kept my fingers crossed that the motor oil madness would not take her sanity at this moment. We vowed to take the stand down and go back into the house to drink the rest of our lovely lemon drinks. I practically carried that nutball woman in with one arm, the pitcher of lemontinis in the other.

Next came the Save Gert Charity Drive and Car Wash. Motor Oil Madness apparently affects your sense of decorum and fashion sense. Who the hell goes out to wash cars in a white tee shirt? Okay, who in the Midwest? I knew it was trouble when four of Jaa’s in-laws, including Needle Butt, made a beeline for me as soon as I pulled in. Damn. I hate a herd of in-laws! They could not choose a spokeswitch for the group, but I got the gist of the conversation fairly quickly. I trotted over and told Jaa that I would give her fifty bucks right now, on the spot if she would come in and put on a new top. And, perhaps a bra. She smiled a smile I knew very well. She shook her head and said, “Nah, I am waiting to see how much Needle Butt offers.”

Motor Oil Madness: Pray you never get it and pray that if your friends do that you have film in the camera and plenty of bail money on hand.