It’s mid-afternoon Friday. I have come in to work early and completed my work for the day. I check out at work and start to walk down Main Street. .
I get to the Brown Dog Saloon. .
One of the useless boys who hang out at the BDS sneers at me, “You hear about Johnny getting beat up las’ night?” .
I reply to the punk, “Yeah, the police woke me up about three this morning, to ask me about Johnny. It seemed that Johnny was a beatee and the police wanted to know if I was the beator. I told the police that I wouldn’t beat up Johnny, that sort of thing would cruelly leave Johnny’s mother and the donkey without an agent. I did tell the police that if Johnny again damaged my car, check with me the next morning and then again after the funeral.” .
The useless boy laughs, “You sure like that car. Johnny don’t like your car.” .
I lecture, “The police called me this morning, to tell me that I was no longer a person of interest in the beating of Johnny and that I didn’t need to tell them before I left town. It seems that some people who deal dope wanted Johnny to pay for some dope that he got from them. Johnny just gave them a big grin. According to the police, they just gave Johnny a beating. As far as I was able to find out, the dope boys didn’t beat either Johnny’s mother or the donkey.” .
The useless boy sneers, “Johnny took Linda from you.” .
I sigh, “Yeah and the trash people took my trash from me, on the usual collection day. As to Linda, well, if Johnny’s gone, there’s still the donkey.” .
The useless boy sneers, “You shore don’t think much of Linda any more.” .
I state, “Not after Johnny and Linda tried to claim that they had lost the tickets to the July 4th dance. The July 4th dance people told them that I bought the July 4th dance tickets and that my lady and I would be there shortly, with the tickets. I don’t think that it was right of the July 4th dance people to comment on my height, but what the hell.” .
The useless boy sneers, “You brang a real looker girl to the July 4th dance, ain’t seen her since.” .
I state, “I bought a real lady to the July 4th dance. Unfortunately, her company then transferred her to far away. Too bad, because I could have gotten very used to dating a real lady, instead of some of the low class, runaround girls here.” .
I then walk on. .
I stop by an insurance office. I tell the agent, “By the way, thanks for the check to pay for the repairs to my car, after the damage that Johnny caused.” .
The agent shakes his head in denial. “It will be a cold day in Hell before we again write insurance for Johnny.” .
I laugh and say, “Johnny can check the weather report, when he gets there. Some of the hot rod guys don’t like those who damage hot rods.” .
The insurance agent says. “I don’t like those who damage hot rods either, but I don’t carry a tire iron around.” .
I sigh, “Talk may not work, even jail may not work. A tire iron upside the head always works.” .
I walk on. .
I get to Riley’s Speed And Custom Shop. I stop in and tell the clerk, “My car is now ready, down at Bob’s Garage. Bob’s has the matching performance tires and wheels that you don’t carry, otherwise I would have had the repair work done here. However, how is my Engine Control Module (ECM) unit selling?” .
The clerk says, “The racers say that it works and we got more orders waiting delivery of the ECM units from the computer shop.” .
I say, “Okay! I’m waiting for some dyno data to build an ECM unit for the big hemi Chryslers, stay tuned!” .
The clerk says, “Okay.” .
I talk with some of the guys around the shop. The guys don’t look favorably on a guy who messed up a hot rod. I suspect that Johnny either leaves town, in a bus or in a coffin. The wages of hot rod sin are death. .
I exit Riley’s Speed And Custom Shop and I walk on. .
My next stop is the computer store. I talk to the owner and he’s ready for the next ECM unit, when I have another one. He has connections to the microcomputer people and he can get my next ECM unit burned into a ruggedized microcomputer, as soon as he gets the computer code.
