Lord, Won't You Buy Him a Mercedes Benz

The Irishman called me from work this afternoon. I'd left school before 5:00 (for once) to meet the bug guy at home to treat our ant issues. I'd been hoping Morg would get a ride home, but it seemed something had come up.

His boss got sick and was dizzy and not in good shape to drive home. The Irishman is always looking out for people and called to ask me to drive to his place of employment so that I could drive his boss's car to her house and he could follow me in our car.

I completely followed his line of thinking.

His co-workers (and his boss) were having none of it. They know that we live very close to his boss and I would be making an extra trip.

They insisted that Morgan drive his boss home in her car.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that she drive a Mercedes Benz.

A NEW Mercedes Benz.

Morgan started to protest and then decided that he (a) wasn't going to win this battle and (b) should probably sound a little more confident before he starts to drive his boss home.

Now he had to drive past our house to her condo on the water (in the Mercedes Benz) so I waited a while at home before I left.

I got to his boss's place with time to call my mom to tell her Morgan was running late and driving a Mercedes Benz.

Then I had time to call Lyndsay (which is never a short conversation) before Morgan drove past with his boss in the car.

The Irishman looked more than a little nervous driving the Mercedes Benz. He drove right past my car without seeing me. He was gripping the steering wheel quite tight. He called back to the office to let them know he made it okay.

So what does the Mercedes-driving Irishman have to say for himself?

After calling everyone he knows to say how great the car was to drive, he spent the evening singing. Loudly.

(My mom could hear him in the background when she called before)

Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz...

I think he needs to learn the rest of the words!