Okay, so. T & I are going to lunch. He usually drives because my driving scares the shit out of him. That, and he usually knows where in the hell he's going. I am hopelessly Directionally Challenged.
Anyway, I go to get in T's truck. I open the door, put my foot on the running board, AND DAMN NEAR SLIDE OFF.
Me: What in the hell did you do to your running boards??
T: I cleaned my truck yesterday.
Me: Did you OIL them or something??
T: I put Armor-All on all my black. (His words, Hand-to-God)
Me: So you DID oil your running boards.
T: They're a little slick, I guess.
We arrive at out lunch destination. I grab a handful of napkins and wipe down the running board on my side of the truck. So I don't die.
T: What the hell are you DOING??
Me: Wiping the oil off. You're just gonna have to think of some other, less obvious way to kill me off.
Me: I know this is payback for the toilet paper roll last week. You're gonna hafta try harder. Bastid.
T: Oh Jesus...
I'm relating this story to TWH on the way home. I told him it was a damn good thing I DIDN'T bust my ass because my last words to T, before I lost consciousness, would have been "You're paying for this!!". TWH said "No. Your last words would have been "You're fucking paying for this!!"
I Love that man!!