I went to the DMV today to take care of an expired car registration. I was hoping I could go a full year without getting pulled over, but Pantego's law enforcement is vigilante about this stuff. Yeah, I was too lazy to take care of it online, back in November. I'm pathetic. For whatever reason, it was also time for new license plates. The lady behind the glass looked at my new license plate number, and put it back: "You don't want this one." She reached for new plates. I was curious. What is it?
Sweet. The mark of the beast. I'll take it. She smiled suspiciously, "Really?" I figure, why not? It'll be a conversation piece for my car. Then I went home and put them on. I stepped back, and realized I just put 666 on my Volkswagen Jetta. Accidental personalized plates. Somewhere there's a Satanist named Casey who is pissed.
