I don’t look like a homeless thief. I don’t expect respect for my age anymore, though if I were those guys’ fathers, they would be in deep s**t. If I ever go there again, I’ll wear my Bruce Lee shirt that says ‘RESPECT’ on it. I hope I won’t have to explain what it is to them, like a Fiat.
“What’s a Fiat key, sir?” (Always use ‘sir’, it makes the sarcasm, condescension and accusation so much less obvious.)
“The key to a F-i-a-t,” (spelling it also).
“Is that a vehicle, sir?”
Oh damn! Why didn’t I ask what a ‘vehicle’ was?!
“Yes, it’s from a Chrysler dealer…”
Sigh. I need a shower. I have to go to the grocery store. I’m disappointed in my protect-the-universe people. And somewhat amused.
But I now have the key to a gray Fiat…and a roll of barbed wire…and I know where the beer bottle
