HS = He Said SS = She Means
HM = He Means SM = She Means
The old Pontiac is dying a slow and painful death, but, like Balboa versus Creed, the tough son of a bitch just won’t quit. Its mirrors are loosely secured with duct tape, the frame squeals with every tiny bump, and its engine coughs and wheezes like a 98 year-old cigar-smoking asthmatic. It pains you to see a loved one in constant suffering, and the decision to end the misery must be made. Like floating goldfish and crack-induced miscarriages, it’s time to flush away the old and usher in the new.
Gone but not forgotten, you’ll always carry with you the memories. Cooking hashish off the front dashboard during fourth period. Fingering your first girlfriend in the backseat and then wiping them on the cheap polyester upholstery so your friends could later smell it. That unfortunate “incident” with old lady Horowitz’s cat, Pancake. The lingering aroma of “decomposing hitch-hiker in jean shorts," that still emanated from the trunk on warm summer days. Okay, I should probably stop now.
So you and the old girl head out to the car lot and despite a heavy heart, it’s pretty exciting to think about driving off with a shiny new ride. You’re thinking ass-kickin’ SUV or rubber burnin’ sports car. She’s leaning towards a mini-van with plenty of room for groceries and child-seats. Let’s see what transpires…
SS: This is so exciting, I can’t wait to finally drive a vehicle that doesn’t sound like the Tin Man falling down the stairs.
SM: Thank god our driveway will stop looking like a Florida trailer park.
HS: That Tin Man was a good friend of mine, and I’ll kindly ask that you refrain from any further disparaging remarks.
HM: You probably don’t want to give me any ideas about people falling down the stairs, or I’ll be trading your ass in next.
SS: Why so sensitive? That car was a death trap and it smelt of spoiled tuna.
SM: Why the fuck have you never defended me so vehemently? I don’t even smell like fish…well, usually.
HS: That car was a loyal soldier and deserves to be treated as such.
HM: If they made a movie about the shit that went on in that vehicle, suffice it to say it would be rated NC-17.
SS: Anyways, let’s take a peek at some of those mini-vans over there.
SM: Don’t get any wild ideas about re-discovering your youth. We’re going for function over form. I will not have my future baby’s car seat stuffed in the back of a convertible.
HS: Mini-vans, eh? Oh well, I guess if it was good enough for Chili Palmer…
HM: What the fuck do I need a mini-van for? To take my non-existent children to soccer practice? How am I supposed to bird-dog hot broads in a family fucking vehicle?
SS: Hey, look at that black one. Tinted windows... it looks pretty sleek and cool.
SM: As a women I should very easily be able to trick your feeble mind into thinking this is something you want. Like Star Wars, a uhhhhh….Yoda mind trick.
HS: Pretty sleek indeed, if I was a pedophile or driving around Scooby and the gang.
HM: I can’t believe she’s trying to Jedi mind trick me. Sneaky little bitch.
SS: Here comes the guy. Ask him if we can look inside.
SM: For Christ's sake act like a man this time and don’t let him screw us with a million features we don’t need.
HS: Jesus, the guy looks like Adam Sandler in Little Nicky.
HM: (In Little Nicky voice) I never been to Earth, Dad! I never even slept over some other dude's house! (laughs at own joke).
SS: That movie was fucking terrible.
SM: That movie was fucking terrible.
HS: Ya, it was pretty bad.
HM: Ya, it was pretty bad, but at least it didn’t make my eyes bleed like The Notebook.
Sales Guy: How you folks doin’ today? My name is Vince, and if you have any questions, just fire away
HS: Sure thing, Vince, thanks.
HM: Alright, Nicky, hit me with your pitch.
SS: Ok, thanks.
SM: Why do all car salesmen look guilty?
Sales Guy: So, you guys in the market for a mini-van I see?
HS: Well, not necessarily, Vince, we’re just looking at all of the options.
HM: Do I look like a fuckin’ mini-van guy to you Vince? I want something that’s going to make the women moist in their thongs. Well, as moist as they can get for under thirty grand.
SS: We’re looking for something that will accommodate us for the future. Affordable, reliable and, most importantly, safe.
SM: I’ve researched all of these vans online so don’t try to fuck me by selling me a piece of shit. I already know you want the most commission you can get your greasy little hands on, so don’t treat us like morons.
Sales Guy: Oh, gotcha. Is there a bun in the oven now or just starting to try?
HS: Slow it down there, bullet. There are no children in the equation right now, I just like to sit up nice and high.
HM: Uh oh, Nicky, you should not have said that.
SS: Ha ha ha ha. No we don’t have any kids and I’m not pregnant, but in the next couple of years, who knows? So we want to be prepared.
SM: Are you calling me FAT Vince? Are you saying I look PREGNANT? You better pray to the god of spineless slime-ball sales assholes that I don’t find out what car you drive because I will sever your brake line so that you die a horrific fiery death.
Sales Guy: Of course, like the boy scouts say “be prepared,” right? (makes annoying boy scout finger gesture). Well, let me show you inside this 2008 model here. It’s a pretty classy automobile, tests as one of the safest on the road, and has all the features you look for in a family car. Now this model has all the upgrades, heated leather seats, hands-free Bluetooth phone built in, iPod adapter, DVD player in the center console, 6-disc CD changer. You name it.
HS: So it’s got the whole voice activated hands free phone system built right in?
HM: That is pretty fuckin’ sweet, even for a mini-van.
SS: That’s all well and good, but how does it compare to the other models in terms of gas mileage, warranty and depreciation value?
SM: Great, now that Fuckwit is drooling over the gadgets, I have to yet again do all the investigating.
HS: Hey sweety, look, you just plug the iPod in there, and it rests right in this little basket.
HM: That’s so cool, I can crank my favorite tunes and not have to listen to the squawker in the passenger seat on road trips. Plus, if I’m too tanked to drive home from anywhere, I can just throw on a movie and pass out in the back seat.
Sales Guy: Trust me ma'am, this is the premium mini-van on the road today, and, it comes in at the same cost or less than some of the inferior vehicles in its class.
SS: Well, it does look nice, and it got pretty decent reviews online…
SM: Maybe you’re not so bad after all, Vince. I think I trust your word on this one. I just hope my jackass husband doesn’t realize the same features are on the cars he wants as well.
HS: I can’t lie to you, I’m coming around a bit on the van.
HM: Ok, so I probably won’t be able to pick up chicks because of the van, but if I ever do pull some strange pie, if this van’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’!!!
SS: OK Vince, we’d like to take it on a test drive, but assuming that goes well, I think we’ll take it
SM: I’d better pull the trigger on this while brainless is still mesmerized by the all the blinking lights.
Sales Guy: Great, I’ll draw up the paperwork while you guys see how she drives. Will that be the base model or the premium package?
HS: I’m leaning towards the premium package I think. If you’re ever in an accident, dear, that hands-free phone system could come in handy.
HM: Look, I’ve tucked my junk between my legs and formed a mangina on this issue, you can better god damn believe I’m getting the premium package.
SS: Well, the premium package is a little more than we were looking to spend, but I suppose it could come in handy.
SM: I can deal with the price of losing a small battle if it means winning the war.
Sales Guy: Tell you what, I’ll even knock two grand off the sticker to keep it closer to your price range.
HS: Mini-van it is. Pleasure doing business with you Nic…er Vince.
HM: Soccer moms, here I come.
As the happy couple drives home in their flashy new mini-van…
SS: So, are you pleased with the purchase?
SM: Maybe this will help you to settle down and realize its time to start thinking about a family.
HS: As long as you’re happy, dear, I’m happy. Plus, if it was good enough for Chili Palmer…
HM: Oh shit, wait till I call my buddies, this could be the ultimate road trip vehicle. We could do a 10-stadium ball game tour, tailgating, movies, iPod cranking, throw a little poker table in the back, tinted windows to hide the beers, plethora of hooker-room in the back. Not to mention it was good enough for Chili Palmer…