There is transportation and there is humiliation...
For young eligible bachelors just out of college, it seemed like a good idea not to mix the two. Driving a piece of sh*t in college was not only a rite of passage, it was cool. But being 25 now, most of us figured that chapter was closed. You see, we had an image to uphold.
Kenny was on the 7 year college plan. When he finally returned from his college days (jury is out if he actually graduated), he continued to surf the county in his worn out college Renault La Car. This thing was bad. I mean, awful. You could see the ground going by through the rust holes in the floor. The floors were covered in empty beer bottles and fast food trash. One window was missing. Kenny would always park on the other side of the street so he could roll start it as the starter was bad. No one would ride in it. In fact we would call a cab before riding in the La Sh*tBox.
The more we nudged Kenny to get a presentable car, the harder he dug in. One day we decided to take matters into our own hands. Thus a plan was baked.
After gathering up the necessary supplies, and our best dark commando clothing, Harvey, Henry and I set off to the door. Harvey’s kid sister, Susan – grinning ear to ear while listening to the plan – suddenly turned forlorn as she realized she wasn’t to be included in it’s execution. We looked at one another and Harvey waived her on. Off to the store. First stop was for a case of Milwaukee’s Best.
“Is that going to be semi-gloss?” the man at the paint store asked. “What shade of pink would you like?” We shrugged our shoulders and briefed the man on our plan and he smiled and went to mix up the paint. We dug in our pockets for crumpled bills as the man emerged with a gallon of his pinkest pink paint. “This one is on me, fellas.” He said. Henry paid for several cans of spray paint and we left.
The sun was long down as we sat in the woods across from Kenny’s house, dressed in black – faces painted - mowing beers. Sometime after 1:00 AM, we headed out across the road and began our well-executed plan. Everyone had a job. Harvey and Henry were the roller men. They laid down a nice coat of pink on the hood and roof of the LaShitBox. Susan and I had brushes cutting-in as if we were painting the living room. The car was fully pink in no less than 5 minutes. We adjourned to the woods. A half hour and another couple beers later, we came back across the street with stencils and spray paint. Orange stars, green clovers, blue diamonds... you get the point. The LaCar was now the Lucky Charms Car. “One more thing”, said Susan as she dug out a bag of golden glitter and sprinkled it like snow on the freshly painted car. Perrrfect!
Kenny awoke the next morning for his job interview and opened the shade. “I’ve been dosed!” he said to himself (a reference to LSD). He closed the blinds and re-opened them, hoping something would change with regard to his car out front. It was not to be. “Those a**hole friends of mine!” Kenny said to himself as he waived to the smiling/pointing pedestrians on his way to his job interview. Kenny didn’t get that job.
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