Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Bill's Used Car Lot

What is society? Bill’s Used Car Lot.

I wake up at 6 a.m every morning and put on my sports coat (always the same one). I proceed to buzz about the house until my middle aged wife's complaints become too overwhelming. My cologne of choice is Chrome. It makes me feel...empowered. Vitalized I prepare to barrage customers at my used car lot.

Ahhh! Their pleas for peace give me a reason to wake up in the morning. I'll never leave them alone, you see. It just isn't the natural order of things. "I've got a 1980 Pento for sale! It's a good 'un!" Yes, this is what I do. My name is Bill, and I'm 34 years old. I've been doing this job for about 12 years now. Twelve glorious years that I wouldn't trade for the world, swear. Though sort of a funny story, and more so a showing of a divine presence, the way I got this job is unimportant (dropped out of Community College, tried to steal a car, long story), though it may inform some of my behavior. My behavior is, of course, very typical of a man of my position. I lunge at folks who waltz into my domain. Every hour a new piece of meat comes in thinking he or she has a regular day ahead of them. No way. Watch them, khaki shorts and Hawaii shirted. Watch them writhe in utter confusion and disdain for themselves (they chose to enter). the sight is so joyous I can nearly taste it. I would love to eat these moments. It goes something like this: I make a pitch, loudly. They make an attempt to escape, meekly.

There is no exit here at Bill's Used Car Lot. How could there be? My minions guard the "exit" with voracious zeal. I am not alone. I am typical, and there are many of me, but I love me. Who wouldn't? Our steaks usually buy after about a half hour of torture.

You might ask why a guy like me exists; why I do this. I don’t do this for money. What is money on a used car lot? Fodder. Fodder to run for the real prize. The money means nothing, the process everything. It's an added bonus, at best. But I suppose it does give me something to remember the chase by. As i'm buying a sofa, I see those dollar bills in my hand, and I relish the sweat on Mr. Gallon's brow, the slight tremble in Mr. Mahoney's voice, the excitement is there too though, deep in the belly somewhere. When I think back I can feel that too, the rush they must be feeling but are too afraid to show. On my part, the nostalgic elation cannot be matched. You give it a try. You'll see why I do what I do. You'll see why I must do what I do.

There is no exit from this trend of mine. Were I to be born in a world without cars, I would have no purpose and my terror would reign in nihilistic glee throughout the world. When this alternative is presented, I suppose I don't look so bad. (Burning city, or new Jeep?) Well if you want to keep the world safe, the children free, the countries not on fire, you'll buy a used car. I can sell you one for cheap, it's a beaut! O (!) I’ve just got a new Pontiac on the lot. The owner was an idiot, but I swear he never had an accident in his life. You can trust me Betty, Don, Rick, Jimmy, John, Lou. My happiness is your happiness and my happiness is your pain. BUY A USED CAR. BUY ONE NOW. BUY ONE QUICK! No pressure. I am your society, embodied in a little way, so trust me.


  1. I thought at first who ever wrote about cadillacs musta written this one cause of the cars, but I'm gonna guess PAT

  2. this is pat the other was farrell