She apparently heard this on the radio or something:
There was this guy, an old guy I’m sure, the kind with a nice house, a young daughter, and then later an exotic classic car. I’m sure he worked really hard for it, something to be proud of, to cherish. And cherish it he did. He spent weeks restoring and shining to pristine his treasure.

Alas, children being children, sometimes do irresponsible things. In her case it was playing with rocks around daddy’s new toy. In a rage he ties her hands up with wire and hangs her to the fence to think about what she did. Tick tock… Four hours pass, what kind of things pass through her mind?

Turns out he forgot about her, and upon find his daughter hurriedly rushes her, with bleeding hands, to the Emergency room. Turns out she was more or less okay save for deep scars and cuts after a skin graft performed on her barely five-year old palms. I’d like to think he felt bad, and maybe he did – well, I’m sure he did.

A year later and dad’s still working on the car, he’s paid a lot of money and worked a lot of time to get those bumps and scratches out. Standing back, looking at his shiny trophy he smiles, he feels pride renewed. His daughter comes into the garage innocent as ever, nothing has changed. “What are you doing?” she asks. “I’m fixing the car so it will be pretty.” he says beaming.

She shows her bandaged hands to the him and asks “Dad, when will you fix me so I can be pretty?”. He puts a gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger.

Thinking out loud //