LatinosUSA

Excuse me, Judge. Judge? Can I have just a moment of your time? Look at this traffic ticket. Is it not the strangest thing you’ve ever seen? Good, you agree. Do you think I should pay for it? Oh no, I wouldn’t go to traffic school. I wasn’t the one driving.

Really, I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t my Harry’s idea to put some spice back in our marriage. A road trip. Can you imagine? I think it’s because he wanted to show off our new car with all the spaceship knobs and gizmos. Yes, I’ll get to the point. I know you’re a busy man.

So, we were driving through the country, using that navigator, the one with the woman’s voice, an English accent, telling you where to turn. He had that Miss English Hussy voice turned up as loud as possible. Maybe if I had an English accent, my Harry would turn down the volume the first time I asked him.

So, anyway. While Miss English Hussy was telling my Harry what to do, he complained that I should be sexy, like her. I should cook his steaks rare, and not burn them because he’s late, out again with the boys, losing track of time.

I yelled that If he wore his hearing aids, we could have a quiet conversation about this, and I wouldn’t have to ignore him. He yelled back. Well, nobody yells at me.

A traffic cop pulled up next to us as we were yelling and motioned us to pull over. No, of course I didn’t know where he came from. Miss English Hussy didn’t tell us.

My Harry got out of the car to talk to the officer, and wouldn’t you know, fell into a pothole and broke his leg. Miss English Hussy didn’t say anything about the pothole, either. She’s useless.

The officer called for an ambulance. After he wrote this ticket. Arguing over the speed limit. Can you believe it?

So, anyway. Can you tell me how to get a divorce?