It was on the 29th of October that I had acquired
a particularly small car. Known to many
as a joke car or a toaster, I had lost my job as an accountant at a highly
prestigious credit union, and had undergone many budget cuts. I had sold my old car for something a little cheaper,
insurance and gas wise. At the
dealership, the usual balding man scuttled out from inside the warm
dealership. It was raining, and about 48
degrees. The wind chilled me to the
bone, and I was looking for something economic.
I also was looking for a speedy process.
I hated dealing with confrontation, and I hated salesmen even more. I had previously worked in retail, and knew
the amount of sheer lying that went on day to day. And so it was.
The small black car was sitting in one of the rows, clean as
it could be with the rain, and I pointed towards it. The salesman laughed, Marcus, I think his
name was. He tried to lead me over to
the more expensive side, where the SUV’s and sports cars waited. I told him of my financial status and that I
had assumed a minimum wage job. His
smile quickly faded, as he knew along with this, warranties and other
non-essentials would not be sold. So
after some haggling, he let me test drive the small car.
On the road, I got to test the lights and wipers, along with
the utter slowness the car possessed.
Marcus laughed every time I tried to enter the freeway, slugging along,
and once almost being rear ended by a rather angry Southerner. His laugh and breath were completely
disgusting, and annoyed me to the near point of ramming the car into the side
of the freeway. But I needed a car
cheap, so I smiled and nodded my head when he made a comment. I pretended to be the fool that Marcus wanted
me to be.
After pulling into the dealership and going inside, we
haggled even more about the price. I was
set on a fair figure of $7,000, with no warranties, no extras, not even
electric windows. Of course, Marcus
tried his very hardest to push everything, and after forty-five minutes, and
the threat of a lost sale, Marcus sold me the small car for $8,200. I was unhappy already, but the simple act of
being done with this scum of the earth was enough to make me take out a loan of
$1,200 at an unfathomable interest rate.
As I drove off in my new “toy car” as Marcus called it, he
smiled one last time, and waved. As I
waited to go back into traffic, I looked at him. I stared for more than a few moments, and
began to laugh hysterically. Marcus was
such a simple man, with only money in mind.
I turned on my headlights, turned the wipers on full blast, and pulled
away, into the now darkness.
At about 10:00 PM, I watched Marcus pull out of the
dealership in his nice sports car. He
waved goodbye to the rather handsome lady going to her car. I had noticed a ring on his finger earlier,
(a rather nice one-coated with diamonds) and gripped the wheel even
harder. I waited ten seconds, and began
to tail Marcus home.
As we merged onto the entrance ramp to the freeway, my car
had a bit of trouble speeding up. I lost
sight of Marcus, pulled over onto the bridge, and slammed my fist against the
horn. A small toot emerged, and I was even more embarrassed. However, a car pulled up beside me on the
shoulder. It was Marcus, laughing, his
breath fogging up the window. He rolled
his window down.
“Told you, shoulda bought somethin’ worth a shit. Haha.
Stupid city boy. Don’t you know a
real car when you see one?” His face
knotted up into that sickening grin, and he revved his engine, burned his
tires, and went off home. By now, I was
fuming, and had no control over my emotions.
I began beating the wheel mercilessly, smashing my fists against
anything in the car. Soon, the interior
was smashed to pieces, and I exited the car in a fury. I struck my hand through the driver side
window as bits of glass spattered all around me. My hand was a red mess, my mind completely
gone. The rage consumed me, I was so
sick of everything. Again, I heard a car
slow down beside me, and could already hear his
wheezy laugh.
“You dumb shit.
Already crashed the damn thing?
Well, can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
Marcus then revved his engine again, and drove towards me. I felt a bump against my knees, and before I
knew it, was flying in the air. The
bastard had hit me so hard, I was flying.
Well, I would land soon enough.
The next day, after the ambulance and emergency personnel
left, a tow truck was unsuccessful at pulling the small car I had bought that
day before. The small car, smaller than
most, would not even budge. The driver
cursed for a few minutes, and left. I
laughed, staring at him. It is sad,
watching people come every now and again lay a cross, or a rose, at the bridge
that I lie at. But I always remember,
always tell myself, when I wake up screaming at the bottom of the
lake-I should have gone with a bigger
car.
No comments:
Post a Comment