Witch is it?

As I walked out to my car this morning, I noticed that there was a flattened out witch's hat -- you know, tall, pointy and black with a big round brim -- sitting underneath the front of my car. I quickly deduced that one of three possible scenarios led to it being there:

Scenario #1: I ran over a witch last night and totally didn't remember.

Okay, I admit this is unlikely. Surely, I would've noticed running over something as large as a witch. The other night, a cat ran out into the road and I could not avoid him. The good news is I think I only clipped him, because he appeared to bounce back up and make it to safety. The ironic news is I was on my way to see Cat Power play a show at Cat's Cradle. Seriously. Anyway, point is, I didn't run over a witch. I think.

Scenario #2: A young girl from a black-and-white alternate universe, in which she lives in my car, was caught in a tornado, causing my car to crash land on a witch in the parking lot.

This one is also very unlikely. Number one, there are no very short people here to help her out. Number two, there is no Emerald City nearby. Durham? Sorry, that's the Bull City. Carrboro? That's a town, friend, and one without a catchy nickname. Number three, I'm just rooting against this theory because could you imagine what would happen to my car's suspension if it had been dropped from the sky? Yeah, me neither. But it can't be good.

Scenario #3: Someone lost the hat several weeks ago on Halloween, and it just happened to blow under the front of my car last night thanks to the cold, windy weather.

Admittedly, this is the least likely of the three scenarios. Wind? Come on. Halloween costume? Puh-leeze. And if it really was part of a Halloween costume, why did this hat have to blow under there? Why couldn't I wake up to come outside and find an entire slutty nurse pinned underneath the bumper? Is that really too much to ask?

Now, of course, you're thinking: What an idiot. (Unless you're a guy, then you're still thinking about slutty nurses.) But be glad I didn't blog about the story I had Sunday, when a deranged security guard at a basketball game went on a crazy rant about the previous day's Michigan-Ohio State football game ... TWICE. Same rant. Twice. While picking his nose and wiping it on his arm. Not his sleeve, mind you, but his actual arm. Needless to say, watching to ol' booger-arm weave his prosaic magic was NOT the ideal cure for my hangover.

On that note, Happy Thanksgiving to all!