Used Car
Used Car
By John Curran
I needed a car and I needed it bad, and I needed it fast. So I got online ‘n found an outfit called ‘Used Cars From Hell.’ Hmmm…thinks I, what ‘hell’ indeed; I decided I’d check it out. So, I went on down there, it was down in the fiery pit of town, a rough area supposedly known for a lot of radical left activity; whatever that was. No matter, I went in the daytime and it all seemed pretty peaceful to me, the action was down a ways, I could see something going on, another shooting probably but oh well, whatever, none of my affair, more a them outside agitators, communist infiltrators, who knows, life goes on.
I was no sooner off the bus, not even feet on the ground, when this guy comes running up to me and says, “I know what you’re looking for, and I got it right here, a hot one, just got it in yesterday. It’s another sad story but the deal I got for you will fire ya up sure, so much good coming from so much bad would you not agree?” Well, I didn’t know what he was talking about but as we walked on to the lot he pointed out what he was so excited about.
“Yeah,” he says, “we got some doozies here alright, confiscated cars from murderers, thieves, bootleggers…every kind of mayhem you could imagine. If there was a car involved ‘n it got confiscated I get a shot at it after the initial investigation is done. A little deal I have with Big D.” He looks me in the eyes then real significantly like, kinda wink wink, adds, “You do know of Mr. D., don’t ‘cha?”
I just kinda’ nodded, and asked, “watcha got?”
“Well then,” he says, “got a beauty. Like new.” And pointing at a maroon SUV, “barely used. She didn’t get far you might say,” kinda chuckling, “Let’s have a look.”
So we walk up to the rig an the first thing I noticed, besides it being a really pretty nice, newish SUV was a rather large caliber well defined bullet hole in the front windshield. The airbag had been engaged and looking inside the rig I could see there was blood all over it ‘n other areas as well; there was even blood covering a child’s toy tiger laying on the front passenger seat.
“I call it the DT SPECIAL. A real conversation piece, this one.”
“DT SPECIAL?” I mumble.
“Domestic Terrorism SPECIAL.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, a little weirded out actually, “so what’s the story?” Too weird actually I’m thinking.
“Well, so you want the story then?” and he’s kinda rubbing his hands together like, yeah, sure, I’ll give you a story, but before he can go on there’s a commotion outside the gates, people running, shots being fired.
“Damn,” he says, “I really wish they’d taken it somewhere else,” and then turning back to me says, “we can replace the airbag if ya like. But, my boss, Big D says we gotta leave the windshield as is, just so they’ll know we mean business.”
Was he joking? “Who is your boss then sir, the damn devil?”
But he would not answer me, not that I was serious, just looking for a car, fast and cheap. I’ll spare you the gory details but I gotta get the hell out this town, now. Speaking of hell.
