Blow Off Valve Dodge

Amidst a nice, calm, relaxing, sentimental, soothing... even romantic afternoon stroll throughout your local carpark you receive a disturbing message on your pager.

You'd journeyed out to catch a glimpse of heavily modified, turbocharged Japanese vehicles and while you can already hear the blow off valves releasing in the distance, high pressured flutters adding vibrancy and excitement to the soundscape, what appears on the screen of your pager seems to have put you into a sudden state of panic and shock.

"YOU SPENT OUR GROCERY MONEY ON CAR PARTS AGAIN DIDN'T YOU!?"

With a guilt ridden gulp you fight to regain control of your biological functions. If Wednesday night curry wasn't a fortnightly occasion you'd have no doubt soiled yourself. With a violent eruption of gas, much like that of a spring actuated blow of valve, your insides surged with an alleviating release.

For those 10 seconds or more... your colon was free. It's as if your insides themselves were turbocharged for performance. You just might be a sports model after all!

Your wife is very upset, slightly agitated and likely mad. All things considered you could have never predicted the violent outburst to come. With a follow up beep from the pager she's confirmed she's on her way with a few too many packages to distribute for her liking.

The carpark, densely populated with cheerful gearheads and car enthusiasts alike has a sudden change of mood as she arrives in full swing. Sliding to a stop with a squeal of tyres, the surrounding petrol heads shift their attention, now hungry for burnt rubber at the hint of a burnout to come.

With a violent rage the drivers door is slammed closed. Silence spreads across the carpark and not a single blow off valve could be heard. Passerby's now have a vested interest and inhabitants of nearby buildings have gathered at their windows. Crowds have amassed on their balconies to bear witness to the source of this once peaceful environments sudden emergence of drama.

After a quick stop at the back of her car she comes forth with a stack of postage boxes towered so high the surrounding buildings are dwarfed in scale while the sun fights for partial emergence around the monstrous silhouette of a car parts postal delivery. Someone's in trouble!

While ordering a new blow off valve it seems your internet managed to skip a beat. That $40 purchase spiraled through cyberspace, doubling and tripling in quantity repeatedly as your web browser struggled for control until an order for 6,000 units was sent putting you over $200,000 dollars in debt.

As it appears and rightfully so, you've already given up. Standing straight faced with a blank look you stare ahead as she strides forward, flailing box after box, blow off valve after blow off valve towards you in rapid succession.

Murderous screams of enragement, along with your peripheral vision become blanked out by a psychedelic tunnel visioned experience. Is this your mind body and soul preparing you for a painless death? Perhaps her first grenade-like lob managed to land and you are already dead as your brain reprocesses the last few bits of sensory input amidst a fragmented state of awareness.

Amidst this distorted spectrum of reality your survival instincts take charge. You must dodge as many blow off valves as you can. If you're lucky enough to live through this experience you'll have all the time in the world to try out each of the 6,000 new blow off valves, 1 by 1 to pass the time and hide your lonesome misery amongst your newly divorced lifestyle.

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