Saturday, October 22, 2011

Dodge Ram Fail

Dodge trucks, Ram tough, so Chrysler says... Ram tough. So it was with this Madison Avenue fed perception that Felder espyed this white beater on the street. At best - a tired work truck, at worst, a fail. What with the two unmatched "For Sale" signs festooned to the windshield and to the passenger side window respectively, both the truck and its owner were o-u-t of life's day to day soap opera!!

Work stuff like side boxes and ladders and other paraphernalia was still attached and mounted on the mechanical steed. It was as if Johnny Veale (Fender did that, he made up names just for convenience) pulled his Ram-eroo off the thoroughfare, de-ignitioned and left... Like those people who walk out of their underwater mortgaged houses. Festor did indeed check the ignition thinking... No, no keys! It is said that the drowning homers leave the house keys on the kitchen counter upon final egress, but that could be wrong.

Roofing, Siding, Fiberglassing... Hmmm, don't folks need those kinds of services. Findlay, himself, had just paid $1200 for a flat roof repair on his garage. He had to wonder why Johnny failed? Oh, oh my... did Johnny die? Did his wife, Lynn, put the hauler out here, on the street near the bagel store, hoping someone would buy it? Probably Lynn and the two kids could use the $1750 asking price. Funerals are expensive and Johnny likely had no insurance policy. Self employed roofers, siders and fiberglassers are often short insurance.

Nah, thought Fassbinder, Johnny must be a young man. Only young men roof. Older roofers are all out on disability. And if Johnny were young, he probably didn't die. Well, maybe he got to his turn point injury... broken pelvis, head injury, spinal contusion... Falling off of a roof is some high risk adventure. If you roof enough, you gotta fly. If you screw hookers enough, you gotta get something. Enough of anything always turns sour - LIFE.

Fledermaus had his fill. The heck with Johnny, Lisa and the Dodge. His lumbago was kicking up. Tripping over the storm grate in front of the truck, he hit his shoulder on the askew Chevy parked there. People always were in a rush to get bagels and they positioned their cars helter skelter in their haste to get to the front of the lines. It was October and there were no Summer queues, but... old habits.

OK, OK, it hurt a little, but not too much. No hospital needed, no x-ray required... some ice and ibuprofen. Yup, Felix was like that. He ran an inventory kind of checklist on everything.  Once righted and brushed off, he began to move forwards. Now his shoulder hurt more than his back, so in a juxtaposed sort of way, he was better! As he slip-slided to get his garlic/lox/cream cheese (toasted), he looked back.

"For Sale"
is all he saw.
Filbert realized today was
not a day 4 DE-CAF!

E cosi va...

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