|I am not allowed to touch these, so I had to take the picture as they sat in the fridge.|
Belladonna hit a deer with her new car.
She is fine.
Her passenger is fine.
Her Impala, not so much.
She did a fine job hitting the deer. She did not swerve. She hit the brakes to scrub off as much speed as possible. It is far better to hit a 140 pound doe than to go into oncoming traffic and hit a truck or to go off the road and hit a tree.
She told me there were six of them standing in the road. There was no way she could NOT hit one. She did not appreciate my comment that I hoped she hit the most delicious looking one.
The hood, fascia and the left headlamp are toast. Otherwise, it was not much of an accident.
After Bella smoked the deer, two more vehicles hit it, turning it into a red streak and a rolled up rug.
She took her beloved Impala to the local body shop. When she handed off the keys, she asked the technician who was loitering in the office "Can I bring you guys something to show my appreciation? Soda pop? Something like that?"
The technician said without hesitation "Donuts."
Belladonna decided that the men working on her precious Impala deserve something better than plain donuts.
Tonight she was tucking phyllo dough into muffin cups. She mixed up a batch of Key Lime pie and concocted an icing laced with orange extract. She has a half dozen mini Key Lime pies to take to the body shop tomorrow morning.
It is not a bribe. You cannot bribe artists with a dollars worth of flour and lard. It is to thank them for taking care of her baby.
Those mini Key Lime pies are breakers of men's souls. I know. I had a sample.
If those men don't have the metabolism of a hummingbird before they eat one, they certainly will after.