Bad things.

I moved recently. I hate moving. This is not an earth-shattering statement, a particularly unique one, or a particularly surprising one.

But.

Man, I fucking hate moving.

Bum will tell you I have a lot of stuff. A lot of stuff. A truly astounding amount of stuff I can't bear to be parted from and have managed to tuck into teensiest corners of my apartment. It's a talent. (Plus I truly believe tiny apartment elves come out while I sleep and make. more. stuff.)

So to get all this stuff home (yes, I'm temporarily living with my parents while crap gets sorted out. Not in the basement, and I have no game consoles or black lights.), I rented a U-Haul truck.So here's the thing. They don't really ask you any questions about what you will be doing with said truck. You make a reservation, you pay with a credit card, you drive away with a truck. For 24-hours. All yours to do with as you want. What if I wasn't moving? What if I wanted to do bad things in the back of the U-Haul? Huh? Like a roving meth lab? Or a roving, tiny brothel? Or a roving band of bandits wandering the Pennsylvania highways? What kinds of bad things?

Lots of bad things.

What would your bad thing be?