Don't Believe the Hype

Don't soil your couch or anything, but I've officially been banned from the Saturn dealership. Actually, technically I think I'm banned from all Saturn dealerships worldwide, but I don't believe for a second they're so organized I couldn't walk into a showroom in Iraq someplace with a fake beard and test out a car or make off with an armload of donuts if I wanted. At best I think the overseas dealerships have a vague description of me and some trademark sayings, but that shit's easy enough to fake. I've already got some hilarious platform shoes saved up and I've been itching to use that accent from Scarface for something for a while anyway, so I'd like to see those Iraqi bastards try to keep me out of one of their gay little toy cars.

Not that I was really sold on the idea of buying a Saturn, mind you. Where I'm from, that shit'll get you bitchslapped like you were carrying around a book. "Nice car, Oppenheimer." Right, like I need that noise. But the thing is, I was watching TV the other day, trying to find that channel with the temperature on it to see if it was cold outside, when I spied that ad about how Saturns are made out of some insane Klingon plastic where you can hit that shit with a golf club and the dent pops right out like superman's balls.

So right away the gears start turning and I'm thinking about the advantages to having a car made out of that stuff, gay little shitbox or not. Like what if that shit is bulletproof? Holy God would that be sweet. Then I could finally go to that Taco Bell on the bad side of town that has the bitchin' nachos without worrying about getting a Gunshot Bell Grande. Sure, I might catch some flak over the squaremobile every once in a while, but kiss my ass man, have you tried these nachos?

So I head on down to the Saturn dealership, and I'm not there for five minutes before the guy is getting all in my business about how you've got to be wearing shoes to test drive a car, like he was listening when I said "test" and then just tuned out and assumed that I added the "drive" part. As if I was going to waste my time driving the piece of shit, I already know it's a Saturn. Maybe he figured I was some hillrod who thought they had a bunch of Ferraris in the back or something, I don't know what his problem was.

But the guy's trouble from the start, and two minutes later he goes all psycho and starts yelling about how he's gonna call the cops, even though I kept explaining that they were going to tell him the same thing, that there's only one way to test if a car is bulletproof. Cops know about that kind of shit, that's why they're cops and not working at a Saturn dealership someplace. But he didn't want to hear about it; he was all hung up on "You shot my car! You shot my car!" so finally I had to agree to disagree with the dude and just slip out the back while he was looking up the number for 911.

Needless to say, the damn thing wasn't even bulletproof. And that was the last straw, really, because I can't think of any other reason people would even buy one of those things. Maybe they just assume from the commercial and can't borrow a gun to test it out. Or maybe Saturns work underwater or something crazy like that, maybe that's the angle and I just haven't seen that commercial yet.

If that turns out to be the case, I may have to brush up on my Tony Montana accent. Bricks out.

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