Dr. Gloom

"I can't believe you got MGE's car!"

"Yeah, I know! But it was-"

"I know, you said, it was a good deal. It's nice. Look at it."

He's right, I wasn't looking at it, so I do.

"I love this color."

"It's a classy color dude! MGE probably paid extra for that."

"He did, I saw it on the window sticker, which he kept in a pristine state. Get in!" I say, as a click the remote door unlocker. (I hope it has this feature. I will not know until I get the car.)

"Cool!"

"You can adjust your seats man," I assure Todd. "There's a memory button I can hit to readjust it to my settings."

"Who'd you set it for?"

"Me. "

"Why you?"

"I'm expecting to be a frequent passenger. I like to be comfortable without having to futz all over the settings every time I may need someone else to drive me home. In my car. "

"So... you bought this car so people could drive you around?"

"Well, yeah. Among other benefits. For example: Classiness."

"Sick."

Todd is still adjusting his seats with the sweet automatic controls.

"Better valet treatment for sure," I emphasize. "If I don't tip, they'll just think I'm an asshole, not a downwardly mobile asshole."

Todd is now seat-belting himself. Rubbing all against my tan leather seats. Introducing himself to my upholstery, if you will.

"Man, don't get any of that new tattoo on my seats man." I'm determined not to have a faint dragon imprint on the leather seat of my new (but used) car. Residual value and all that.

"What? My tattoo is completely healed. There's no way."

"Just try to lean forward away from the seat. I don't want to take chances."

"Whatever, dude. Let's just go to Toluca Mart in my car," Todd offers.

"Yeah, sure! Thanks man. Let me just get this CD out of the changer, you'll love it."

"So here she is!"

"Whoa, nice!"

"BMW baby! Didn't think I was Yuppie or Nazi enough to ever get one, but here we are."

"It was a good deal though" Crum said.

"Yeah, I said that. It was. A good deal."

"I don't want to drive it though."

"No man, that's cool."

"Insurance and stuff. We should walk."

I'm sitting here listening to Southern Culture on the Skids' "House of Bamboo" and I caught myself thinking, "Huh. That might be a cool theme song for my Myspace page."

This is a Myspace page that I basically have in my mind only. Okay, the real one exists, but it's like the prefabricated one they give you, absolutely devoid of any personal creative touch other than I'm a "Gemini" (which is actually true, so not really creative).

But then again, the Myspace page I have in my head would take so much time and effort and http code and all that shit to actually make happen, to "go live" as they say in the http industry, that sounds kind of, I don't know, hard and ultimately unfulfilling.

Like I said, a new low.

"Where the fuck are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere, man. Just listen to that sound system. 'White Stripes,' sweet, huh?"

Harv looked around. We're in the carport.

"Why did you even get this car? We need beer but if you're not gonna drive us there, let's just fucking walk there."

"It's a nice car! Check out the sunroof."

I hit a button and the sunroof slides back.

"That's fantastic, I can see the roof of the fucking carport."

"Relax man, enjoy it," I say.

"I'm getting out of here dude." Harv exits and walks toward the Toluca Mart.

"Are you going to Toluca Mart? I don't have any money on me," I admit.

"Stupid purchase, dude," he tells me. "Beer is a much better investment. Ask Adolph Coors."

"Yeah," I say. "I didn't think about asking Adolph Coors."