I Hope It Was Delicious

The official diagnosis from the mechanic is that my car was EATEN BY MICE. I thought I was just doing what everyone else did, leaving cheese wedges and hamster wheels in the engine compartment, but no. I can't remember in which particular book I learned that you should leave cozy balls of newspaper shreddings next to all the important electrical components, but it was very convincing at the time. It turns out you're not supposed to do any of those things and now my car is a very comfortable two ton skateboard worth exactly dick.

Seriously, what's next? Fucking bicycle termites?