The warm weather in southern L.A. inspired Zooey to take a little drive. Bright blue-eyed and bushy-banged, Miss Deschanel pulled on a pink dress with a Peter Pan collar, a pair of Mary Janes, and walked outside.
“Ahhh, what a glorious morning.”
Zooey walked over to a tree where a bird was perched. Zooey and the bird began to sing together in perfect harmony, like two white girls in a choir. She then bowed to the bird, and in return the bird crapped on her shoe.

“Oh well, at least it’s organic!” Then Zooey proceeded to wipe off the poop, put on her Yoko Ono-esque
sunglasses, and got into her VW Beetle.
Zooey then pulled out of her driveway and into the hectic streets of LA. Windows down, her dark brown hair blowing in the wind, she turned on the radio.
“CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES-THIS IS MY LAST RESORT” blared from her speakers.

“Oh goodness me, Papa Roach?! Oh golly.”
Zooey frantically tried to change the station, but the radio continued to play the song. In a desperate attempt to at least turn down the volume, the dial twisted off.

“Oh no!”
Zooey was frazzled to say the least. The radio was blasting, and the people around her started to stare. She took off her sunglasses, just to realize that they left large black circles around her eyes. She then tried to rub that off, but the grime smudged, making her look like an emo-middle schooler.
Zooey sat in her car on the highway, with another scream song blasting in her car, now accompanied with dark eye makeup. A small boy in the car next to her looked at her face, and simply began to cry. His mother rolled up his window and switched lanes.

Finally, Zooey made it to the exit and stopped in the Target parking lot.

“Well, while I’m here, I might as well buy some new tights and stuff for a picnic!”?

While she got out of her car, her dress ripped up her leg. The torn dress was no longer cute so much as it looked like it saw the worst side of The Hangover.
“Rats pajamas!”?

Our very disheveled looking protagonist walked into Target, getting horrible looks from customers.

“What is that girl doing? Wait-is that Kristen Stewart?!”?

Zooey, furious, turned around to look at the customer comparing her to Kristen Stewart.

“EXCUSE ME?!”?

“I, I just thought you were Kristen. Like, you know, Twighlight?”?

“I KNOW WHO SHE IS.”?

“So, I’m guessing you’re not?”?

Zooey then proceeded to grab a shopping cart and head in the opposite direction, mumbling to herself:
“Kristen? Really? Kristen? I’m QUIRKY not, not whatever THAT is.”Zooey’s face wrinkled in disgust, her bangs visibkled frizzed out in the heat of her anger.

In the checkout line, the cashier scanned all Zooey’s items.

“That will be 15.86.”?

Zooey reached into her purse and realized she forgot her wallet in her car.

“Can you hold my things please m’am? I left my money in the car.”

“Alright you wacko.”?

Zooey looked at the woman resentfully and walked out of Target.
At her car, she realized that her keys were locked in the car. Frustrated, she jiggled the car handle, hoping it would open. She looked around her, looking for anything to help her open the car. A pole sat on the curb next to her; she picked it up, swung it over her shoulder and broke open her window. With a squeal of excitement, she reached into the car and grabbed her wallet and keys.
A crowd of people stood around her, in disbelief and terror. Zooey stared back, unsure of what to say. She dropped the pole to her side, keys and purse in hand. She re-adjusted her bangs, straightened out her dress, and looked into her not-so adoring audience.

“You all can go screw yourself, I’m going to buy myself a pair of tights.”?