Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice

Earlier in my investigation into the reported theft of my Mini Cooper, I tried countless times to dial the McAdoo Borough Building to file another complaint until someone got off their fat ass and contacted me.

Sometime shortly after the dissolving of Officer 86's position, wink, wink, I tried again around 10:00 PM to leave a message on the phone for someone to show an old man some mercy and respond. To my surprise, someone answered the phone to which I immediately asked, "Who's this?"

The mysterious voice replied, "Borchick," and the next words out of my mouth were, "You stole my car." After a pause, he said, "Yea, they said I stole your car, suppose they're right." Upon hearing this reply so nonchalantly, I immediately hung up the phone before it became ugly.

Now, during our brief exchange, I could hear a woman yelling at him like a dog, "Who's that? Hang up the phone!" For a millisecond, despite my car being stolen, I actually felt sorry for this asshole.

That conversation has been burned into my memory, and I’ve always wanted a face that went with that witch. Then surfaced this image that identified the woman in the photo as his recent bride. Talk about images that you wish could be unseen. The two of you look like a wedding cake topper for Beetlejuice.

Mrs. Borchick, thanks for the Lions Club's concern for my car and the mental abuse from your hubby.