She sneaks up behind him in the hall, the hall with that very attractive circular inlay pattern in the hardwood, and she hugs him from behind, her fingers holding him right above his belt line, her little fingers resting on the leather of his belt.
"What the hell… is this? A toy car? Is it a wind-up or something? And who…who's sitting in the car? Who's that, uh, who's that little woman?"
"Ooooh, my baby, it's an exact replica of me, and the car is my car, miniaturized for you.
It's the introduction of my gift to you, you see. Read the card, honey. Read the card."
Sparky leans down and takes the card off the top of the car that's sitting in the big unwrapped box, and he reads…
My Darling Sparky,
I know we come from different cultures, you with your hoo-hah upbringing and me from a place where conniptions are common. And you, well, you don't connipt.
And I love that about you, you know I do, all that culture and that charm, and that starting your sentences with words like "Possibly…" and "I note…" and things.
And I'm sorry I embarrass you with my redneck driving. I just can't seem to help myself, driving like a bat out of hell as I do, well, it's just a part of my genetic code, the calling people idiot fucking morons and the hollering out the window at fools, like the time when I was following you home and that dumbass in the car ahead of you took too long to get through the light and I honked at him and you weren't all that happy about that, me taking care of us from my car behind your car and all. But I promise you, from now on, I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm pouring all my driving anger into this little mini me here, and out on the real road, I'm gonna be a good girl, just for you.
So you see, Sparky, this is the gift that keeps on giving.
Well, one of the two gifts that keep on giving, actually, as I'm behind you once again, and stripped buck nekkid.