What a lousy car. What an ugly color. If you need the money, I'll give it to you, but you gotta PROMISE me you won't drive this godforsaken ugly car. Get it outta my sight. Take it! Plenty of bullets if you're hungry. Last night I drank a fifth of scotch by myself and threw up all night in the strip mall parking lot while a dog looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Mongrel. This is how fast you type when you got so much better to do but can't for the life of you bring yourself to do it, much like life, like life, not quite. Like life, that is. Have a bullet. They're chocolate covered. Once I was done barfing I shot the dog in the ass, but he didn't die, at least not right away, but he sure made a noise to bring down the heat. I didn't stick around to watch what would happen. These are very good. I think you could've stolen a nicer car. You never call me. Last time I saw you all you did was ask, spuriously, for a blowjob before you picked my pocket and made off with my new Victoria's Secret slip. There's really no call for being this cruel to me. I'll give you all the money you want! Just leave my slips alone. I need them for work. Why doncha give us a kiss and get lost. Here's a spray can. Fix that convertible eyesore! And have a bullet for the road. Ooh! Take a few pesos, too, to wipe your mouth with . . .