The Story of the Red Pick Up

Closing Time: I feel it. I will succeed. Guy has led me on a path that cannot fail. I have the 5 gallon tank. I will fill it up at Valero to repay the owner for hiring the 6 foot hick lady, who led me to Guy. These country folk are good people. Maybe I'll move to the country. People are nicer out here than in the city. I could see it, myself living in a small town. Life would be simple. All right, snap out of it, you haven't gotten the truck yet.

I head towards George, this kooky military guy. I feel charming and will be able to win over this weirdo. I am, despite being a city slicker, a trustworthy guy. People can see it in my face. These country folks can tell. I see the house. "No trespassing, private property," on a chain link fence surrounding the house. Of course. This is a good 'ole boy. A real American.

I look around for the buzzer. There is no way I'm invading this guys space - this time it's not out of fear, but respect. This is his property, who am I to invade without his permission? I look for the buzzer. I open the latch. It's crawling with ants. Disgusting. Sack up, you pussy, it's just ants. I hit the buzzer. No response.

There's a decent truck in the driveway that will work, but is not ideal. I figure at this point, it's around 9:30, I should be closing the deal. No one answers. I know someone is home, I can hear sounds inside. I buzz again.

Finally a man walks out. "George," I say, confident.

He stares at me from his porch.

A wave of nervousness hits me. Why isn't he responding? Is he holding a gun in the hand I can't see?

"Guy from down at Palmers sent me down here, said you might be interested in loaning a pick up for a movie production."

"There's no George here."

"You're not George?"

"No."

He's lying. I can tell. This paranoid freak probably thinks I'm someone from the Federal government spying on him and his bomb making facility in the basement.

"You know Guy at Palmers?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, I'm looking to pay someone $100 to borrow their pick up truck tomorrow morning. This one in the driveway might work..."

"I'm not interested."

Okay, you paranoid hick. Go back to your smelly ant-infested house you freak. Fuck these small town racist, provincial pieces of shit.