Bouncin’ and Behavin’ Fuckery

You Wanna Take Her for a Spin?

Our Wicked Games, #68 — Sporty and Sexy

Chandler Automotive specializes in like-new used cars. There are mixed ratings online, so Bruce is a bit skeptical when he pulls into the lot. He read that Tuesday is Chandler’s slowest day of the week, so he wants to get the most individualized attention to get the best deal. His credit is good except for that one bill he was 35 days late on. Damn bank. His ex-wife had left him with a substantial amount of debt and he’s paying his way through college.

He really only needs to get to work and back, out to the bar with the guys sometimes, and to visit an occasional female. He also takes night classes at the community college in town which isn’t too far from his place. So, gas mileage isn’t really a factor. He lives in a tiny apartment with his fish Max and, for the most part, he’s perfectly content.

He’s driving a Chevy crossover, but he wants something a bit sportier. Sporty and sexy. He’s thinking he wants to maybe put a bit of speed into his life. This will be a good way of doing that. Nothing too expensive. He’s on a rather tight budget and needs to get the most bang for his buck.

He’s a bit excited as he pulls into the lot. No sooner than he turns the car off and opens the door, a very attractive and especially lively woman greets him as he gets out. “Well, hi there!” she exclaims. “What brings you here today, Mr….?”

GAME ON.

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Commentary:

Alright, so I can be a shitty wife sometimes. I didn’t really get Jack anything for Christmas last year. For whatever it’s worth, I did have several things picked out for him in my Amazon cart but he’s really picky and I apparently don’t pay close enough attention throughout the year to pick up on his subtle subtle hints. There’s not much subtle about me.

When we pulled into the driveway from Wendy’s in my car one night recently, the headlights shone on his parked car. My heart went out to him. The proud owner of a little black filthy BRZ. (He refused to let me use the word “nasty,” so we settled on “filthy.”) I told him that if he would leave his car with me the following week, I would make it look brand new. (I’m really good at detailing cars.) That it was the least I could do as a Christmas gift. He was skeptical at first but realized I couldn’t possibly make it look any worse, so he agreed.

Okay, let me interject an important piece of info here so you will get a better taste of why this effort was going to be such a labor of love.

This is Texas. There are always watering restrictions. Always. You can only use your sprinklers on certain days of the week, based on the last digit of your house number after 8 pm on weeknights. You are allowed to hand water anytime but who the hell has the patience for that? Most importantly, you can never wash your car at your residence. Never. And neighbors have big mouths with nothing better to do than watch for anyone violating any rule. And take pictures of it. Then your name and the proof go on the “offender” list and on the neighborhood’s social media page. And with water, there’s no correcting the deficiency so it’s also a monetary fine.

Now, I do love attention, but I have better ways of getting it and writing doesn’t pay enough to cover watering fines, so I had chosen to accept defeat and just have dirty cars.

Except…

When I really want something, I can get pretty damn creative in getting it. I had already tried this trick once and it had worked like a charm so I was confident I could pull it off again.

I had figured out a way to wash my car inside my garage with the door half down so no one could see inside. Our house is below street level, so it worked. I packed old blankets and towels alongside the car to channel and soak up any runoff. Ran the water hose inside the garage and washed the car directing the water outside. It worked perfectly for my car a few months prior, so I knew just what to do for his. It takes a bit of setup to get it right and some skill to keep from soaking everything else in the garage. But I got skills. And I know how to use them.

I ended up keeping his car for three days. Again, with the “filthy” part here. One day was for the outside. The other two for the inside. His wheels killed me. I scrubbed those “filthy” things three times. Each. I almost had to go to the ER after the first day because my back was spasming so bad. The Motrin, Tylenol-3, muscle relaxers, benzos, and morphine I put in my body at least got me high enough to not care as much about the pain but did not make the pain go away. I ended up writing this story while high as a kite perched atop a heating pad.

Another bit of important info here: The backseats of his car are virtually nonexistent. Now, I’m well aware that we’ve played 67 of these things, but I’m no spring chicken and my body still only goes in so many ways. If there is humor to be found in a situation, take it. My motto. Trust me, there was plenty of humor to be found that day. For the outsider, maybe. From the inside, a 47-year-old contortionist was rethinking that labor of love thing. Thinking maybe just some more love would have been enough.

By the time he got home late Friday evening, it was all shiny and brand-spanking new. Then, I suddenly had another idea. Me and my ideas…

We hadn’t played a scenario for two weeks. Amongst the over 60 characters I had played, I had never been a car salesman! This would be a simple one and perfect timing. Perfect. Thus, Roxy was born.

Once I had finished my masterpiece, I backed his shiny car crooked in the driveway with the doors open. (Like car lots when they have them on display.) I didn’t have any balloons. It was dark by the time he got home, and I hadn’t let him in on our little scenario secret yet so I had to rush out and get him out of the car because he couldn’t see it until he bought it, which he hadn’t done yet. He said ah, he got it, so he got out.

I read him the scenario and asked him if he was game. As always, “I’m your huckleberry.” So, it was settled and scheduled.

A s you can see in the scenario above, he was given a name. A bit more than an empty shell. He didn’t know anything about me. (Neither did I at that point.) We got a late start, so it wasn’t until about 9 am the next morning that we exchanged “GAME ON.”

As played, the sun was coming up when Bruce coasted into the “lot” in his (my daughter’s) Chevy crossover. As dictated by the scenario, a cute little brunette saleswoman rushed out to greet him before he even got out of the car. He smiled when he saw me come out of “the dealership.” Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. (I was delirious from lack of sleep.) He always loves to see what I come up with.

I introduced myself as Roxy and told him I was one of the salesmen for the dealership. That we were so happy to have him. “Mr…?”

“Rand,” he said. “But just call me Bruce.”

They shook hands. Ooh, strong hands, she thought.

“What brings you here to Chandler’s today, Bruce?” she asked.

He laughed a bit, embarrassed. Looked back at his car. Said he had a recent change in relationship status and wanted to get rid of that thing. He was looking for something sportier. She empathized with him and told him they had several options that just might be what he was looking for. She began to walk with him as she showed him “all” the cars in the “lot” that might meet his needs. He took a good look at all the options. With open arms, she smiled and asked him if he saw anything he liked.

Of course, he did.

“There are a couple of things I could see myself in,” he said.

(Insert your imagination here.)

“This one right here is nice,” he said running his hands along her smooth body.

“Get in, Bruce,” she motioned. “See how it feels.”

He admired how clean she was and opened the door. He squeezed in. He laughed again. She giggled. It looks like he will like this one.

“How does it feel, Bruce?” She asked eagerly. “Does it fit?” He ran his hands along the shiny steering wheel, admiring her clean interior. Turned on the radio. Whitesnake. Great sound system.

“It feels really good,” he said and looked up at her. “Fits like a glove.” He smiled. He had a lovely smile. It brightened up his face.

“Would you like to take her for a spin?” She smiled back. She had a gorgeous smile. Little dimple in the left cheek. He eagerly nodded his head.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “Follow me and we’ll just go grab the key!” She motioned for him to follow.

She led him into the “dealership” (the laundry room). She invited him to have a seat in their cozy little waiting area (our living room). Asked him if he’d like a water. He said sure. She handed him one of several that Jack had pre-staged. (This is his area of expertise.)

She asked for his driver’s license “real quick” so they could get a copy of it before the test drive. He obliged. She came back and handed him back his license and the key. She was just so happy! Full of life, this one is! (I was buzzed and exhausted.)

As usual, we giggled throughout the scenario. “Sidebars,” we call them, and each scenario has a lot. Some more than others. We stayed “on script” for at least the first half of this one. He admired the great job I had done on his car. Told me once again how lucky he is. He truly is.

We slipped into his car, and he started it up. Roxy said she forgot to tell him that it was a stick and wanted to make sure he knew how to handle a stick. If he didn’t, she would be more than happy to show him how. Bruce said that yes, he absolutely did. He started pushing buttons. He started taking pictures. She told him there was a McDonald’s right down the road if he wanted to just drive there and turn around.

I realized at that point that it was breakfast time! And I was starving so we took the car around the drive-thru and got some egg McMuffins and coffees.

Roxy asked Bruce if he just wanted to pull over, they could eat in the parking lot before going back to the dealership. He said sure.

And… this is about the time we go off script…

Did I mention how goddamn small his car is? Did I mention it was a stick? His voyeurism? I had pre-dosed before we left for the test drive, so Roxy’s spin may have been contorted but she wasn’t second-guessing that “labor of love” thing anymore. She works on commission. She also accepts tips. We were the only ones in McD’s parking lot Saturday morning. Roxy remained as spunky as ever for the whole deal. Remember the humor to be found thing? Yeah.

There were sales papers ready for him to sign by the time we made it back to the “dealership,” but neither of us cared by that point.

He was already sold.

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