Insert Chassis Albuquerque: "You With The Cops?"

"You With The Cops?"

"Yes, I sure am," I lied. "I'd like to buy that car. How much?" I asked the salesman circling it, a Russian-built 1983 red 7-seater Lada Nova tagged $16,000.
"For you – uh, $9,000?" the salesman said, sizing me up.
"What's the mileage?"
"It's Russian, you know, Communist? They don’t use mileage."
“What they use then?”
“You sure you not with the cops?” the salesman asked suspiciously.
"What year is it?"
The salesman looked confused.
"Whaddya mean? It’s 2016," he said. I guess the Russians hadn't
used years either. None of the windows had worked. But both sideview mirrors were electronic, one of them worked. I kicked the tyres.
"Where's the exhaust?" I wondered looking under the car.
"Whoa! Isn't it there?" the salesman said, surprised. He turned round and yelled, "Hey, Dumbass! You seen the exhaust for that dry red, rust-treated Russian junk yard find Lada Nova?"
"Never heard of it!" Dumbass shouted back.
"I'll give you $900," I said.
"That’s a very tall order to fulfil, maybe the tallest I've ever seen - I’d have to check with my boss, Al, and he’s a real hard-ass," the salesman said scratching his face thoughtfully. I stick to my guns, brandishing them in the air for all to see.
“$900,” I said.
“Okay, let's see - let’s call it $1,900 – deal?” he said and extended his hand.
“All in, $900. And top up the gas, replace all the tyres - $900," I repeated.
Jesus! You’re killing me, you’re killing me! What’s Al gonna say!”
“And the exhaust," I said.
"That's extra, pal." Still, he thought about it some. “$1,500 and we there – exhaust, tyres and gas, what you say? Come on, be a pal, you’re stealing from my children!”
“$900,” I said.
“Look, you gotta have a little flexibility, I’ve already come down from $16,000!”
At exactly that moment Dumbass wandered over brandishing the missing exhaust in his hands.
“Hey Al! I think I found the exhaust for that shit-heap?” Dumbass said.
“$900,” I said.
Sold!” Al said and handed me the exhaust.

So now I'm driving around town in the rain in a Russian-made 1983 family car for 7 like I'm some kind of Mafioso big deal. My boss, he'd one of those stupid bumper stickers on the back of his $750,000 Ferrari sports car that said MY OTHER CAR'S A PORSCHE; yeah, bright yellow with a black off-centre racing stripe down the length of it I’d see him in his various cars zipping about town, super models hanging out the windows often without any clothing on and big breasts on display. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, my grievance is purely from a socio-economic disparity point of view.
Speaking of which, driving to work I spotted my boss limping along the highway and dragging his jacket behind him looking as if he'd suffered an explosive decompression, one shoe on, a sports shoe, no shirt and a pair of suit-pants with one leg missing, torn off at the knee. I knew something was wrong immediately, clearly he'd being in a fight, lost and then mugged. I'm all for helping anyone that needs it but I drew the line at that asshole. There two kinds of assholes in the world, the kind you tolerate and the kind you don’t but I suspect between two assholes a woman would always most times choose the asshole with the most cash in the bank - it's just self-preservation.
Still, my boss, can anyone be arrested for being such an asshole? Should they pass a law, legislate for just such things, make it a criminal offense you could be detained for being such an asshole?
But then most of the world's men would be behind bars serving life term sentences, without parole.
Poor son of a bitch I thought, how the mighty have fallen. I hooted as I drove on by...