Amazingly appropos:

From Mark Leyner's book, "My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist."


He's got a car bomb. He puts the key in the ignition and
turns it-- the car blows up. He gets out. He opens the
hood and makes a cursory inspection. He closes the
hood and gets back in. He turns the key in the ignition.
The car blows up. He gets out and slams the door shut
disgustedly. He kicks the tire. He takes off his jacket
and shimmies under the chassis. He pokes around. He
slides back out and wipes the grease off on his shirt. He
puts his jacket back on. He gets in. He turns the key in
the ignition. The car blows up, sending debris into the
air and shattering windows for blocks. He gets out and
says, Damn it! He calls a tow truck. He gives them his
AAA membership number. They tow the car to an Exxon
station. The mechanic gets in and turns the key in the
ignition. The car explodes, demolishing the gas pumps,
the red-and-blue Exxon logo high atop its pole bursting
like a balloon on a string. The mechanic steps out. You
got a car bomb, he says. The man rolls his eyes. I know
that, he says.