Today, the most irregular thing happened. Our car went missing. Not stolen, not robbed, but gone. And my mom did it. Sound strange?

Good, because we had to fix it.

I was minding my own business at our school car-stop, when the teacher hollered out my name.

“Brad! Brad?”

I looked up. Our gray van was not there, so I sat down without noticing. But the teacher called again. And she was looking at me.

My mom was peeking out of an unknown car. It was a Mazda with a run down look. And my mom was in it. She was calling to me.

The teacher was looking at me as if I didn’t even know my car. So I helped myself out by saying, “What have you done with our car?”

The teacher understood and apologized. I said sorry myself. Then I climbed in.

Short, but rediculously strange. So I wrote a poem to go along with it.

Strange car, strange car,

Why are you here?

Don’t you know you are not mine,

So just go as you came.

-

I do not know who you are,

Nor why you are here now,

So just listen to me, just this once,

Just go away, please?