Take my big black shaft

Driveshaft, that is. Must go to a good home, where it will be incorporated into some form of art. I have this shaft, you see. It’s big and black. It used to be attached to my big, black van. But that van let me down. He kicked me to the curb, left me stranded on a desolate stretch of I-5 not just once, but FOUR times! I loved that van. But that van couldn’t handle me. I drove him hard and fast over the Grapevine and every single time he let me down. I tried to deny that he was weak, I had him fixed. Four times. I mean after all, Fords were good enough for Daddy, why not me? But not this one. He let me down four times too many, so I replaced his sorry ass with a nice young Toyota.

But I kept his shaft. His shaft that kept falling out whenever I’d try to haul his tired, loaded ass over the Grapevine. I keep it in a corner of my living room as a reminder why I got that big black van outta my life. See, my Toyota won’t remind me. In time I’ll see some pimped-out black van with nice dubs, and wonder why I ever switched. I’ll think “Damn, it’d be nice to have a sexy-ass van again…”

So I hope I won’t forget, because you see, I am selling my condo now and well, I think buyers might not find the place so appealing with this big black shaft hanging around. Unexplained. Looking like it was just made for that corner. So please, come and take away my big black shaft. Give it a good home, cut it up into tiny pieces, make it into something interesting, just please don’t try to use it as a driveshaft!