Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?

The license plate of the Mercedes parked next to my car says “wealthy.”

I groan.

The giant cross hanging from the rear view mirror makes me laugh.

A woman asks me what’s so funny?

“Irony,” I say, pointing to the car. “Some people are clueless.”

I’m about to explain that old parable about the camel and the eye of the needle, when she unlocks her Mercedes.

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