From “The Limo Driver’s Handbook: Situations You May Encounter on the Road.”


As a limo driver, you may find yourself in a diamond heist situation where a bachelorette party demands you drive into a museum so they can steal enough precious gems for each of them.

See, the whole idea comes about when Karsyn, the bride-to-be, shows off her engagement ring to the intoxicated bridal party. One drunken idea lead to another which lead to another unrelated idea that sidetracked the group and was forgotten by all and then remembered and settled on by a vote of 12-to-1 to commit crime. You vote against.

“We’re gonna go and take back what’s ours. ‘Cept you gotta dri-hic-drive us up like Taco Bell,” says Brixton, who speaks the most coherently for the group of white women.

There's no way you can pull off a glamorous Ocean’s 8 heist if you’re rolling your ankles in your heels so they insist you “do it like a drive-thru.” You think they’ll realize how ludicrous it is to try and sneak through the maintenance entrance with a 30-foot vehicle, when you suddenly feel the jagged end of a broken chardonnay bottle against your neck.

“Step on it,” says Brooklynn. She crawls into the passenger seat, puts her bare feet on the dashboard, and says, “I need this. Okay? Like, really badly.”

“Okay,” you say.

“No! You don’t understand,” says Brooklynn.

“Sorry.”

“Oh my god just drive, I don't even wanna talk about it. Let's just get the frickin’ diamonds or whatever.”

You enter, careful not to hit anything or speak again. Thankfully, the museum hallways are wide enough to accommodate the limousine’s turning radius and you find yourself in a laser security maze. Most laser mazes are defeated with gymnastic skill, but this one specializes in testing your parallel parking ability.

“You’re good, keep going,” says Dusty, the sober lesbian of the group directing you with her head out the window.

“As long as we have Dusty, I think we can pull this off,” says Angel.

“Am I good?” you say. Dusty doesn’t respond. They pull on her flannel shirt. She’s still.

“Dusty now is not the time to go quiet on us like when you didn’t come to my daughter’s gender reveal,” says Paxxleigh. The ladies yank Dusty back into the car to find her headless corpse. The lasers got her. They scream.

“That’s so F’d up!”

“Totally,” says Angel. “I think she would’ve wanted me to have her necklace, though.”

“That’s true. It says ‘Angel' on it. It should go to you.”

“But it’s almost like ironing ‘cause Dusty’s an angel now. In hic-heaven,” says Blakely. “Aren’t we getting jewelry?”

“Maybe you should take the necklace that says ‘bitch' because you are one,” says Angel.

“You’re a bitch, bitch.”

Alarms go off.

“Hands in the air!” says the chief in a row of cops, guns drawn. They motion for you to step out of the limo.

“You have the right to remain sexy,” says the chief. The ladies go wild. As soon as the strippers tear off their costumes, bullets tear through their hunky bodies. They slump over dead, revealing a row of cops behind them with guns drawn, barrels smoking.

“Everybody lay face down, hands behind your back,” says the cop.

“Because we’ve been bad girls?” weeps Brixton, hoping they were also strippers.

“What? No. You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you—”

The women exit the car. You squeeze the wheel tighter.

“Stop! What’s happening? I’m reading your Miranda Rights,” says the cop.

“Um, excuse me,” says Mirandarights. “Do you even know me?!”

The cop backpedals as the women surround him. During the distraction, Paisley pulls a gun from her “This House is A Home” pillow.

“This is for decapitating my LGBBQ friend Dusty,” says Paisley, gunning down the row of policemen. A surviving stripper crawls toward you.

“Look, Diesel’s alive,” says Brixton. The group coos at his struggle to survive.

“H-help m-me,” says Diesel, looking you dead in the eye.

“He’s so cute,” says Haileighyluja.

“Go get the j-hic-jewelry. I got this,” says Paisley, putting her weapon against Diesel’s muscular back. “This is why you never cross Paisley, Brixton, Mirandarights, Blakely, Karsyn, Brooklynn, Angel, Dusty, Dopey, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful, Doc, or Haileighyluja. Eat lead, pig.”

Lesson: Some cops are strippers, some cops are cops. And bachelor parties should have two sober people, at minimum, before attempting a heist.

Safe driving!


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