Paul arrived home in his car. Straight away he was annoyed. His neighbour had parked in the middle of two bays again and there was no room for him. He had to park fifty yards away on the other side of the road, probably in someone else's space.
Paul seethed as he ate his dinner. This was the third time this week he couldn't park in his own spot. He daydreamed of winning the lottery so he could buy a tank or a monster truck and drive it over his neighbour's stupid car.
As he was clearing up after his meal, there was an almighty crash and the sound of a car alarm.
Paul went outside to investigate, along with several other neighbours.
He was filled with glee. The roof of his neighbour's car was all bent and twisted and the front and rear windscreens were cracked. A large object sat in the middle of the roof, trails of steam wisping from it.
"What is that?" Trevor wondered aloud.
A woman looked up at the sky. "Planes pass straight over here all the time," she said before turning to look at the lump on the car's roof. "It looks like frozen shit."
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