Okay, after my 19TH road block in trying to sell Dad’s car, I dropped Nana off at the beauty shop the next day for her weekly “wash and set”. And I headed out again to confiscate the BMW, preferably without any bullets, bloodshed or bull dozers dropping from the sky. About 15 minutes later, I arrived at the intersection where the Chevron was supposed to be, and, of course, the light turned red.
I look over, and on the corner IS a SHELL station, NOT a Chevron… Why is it the ONLY thing my brother Danny is consistent about is fucking up?
For the 411 on Danny, check out: https://tenaciousbitch.com/2011/03/16/the-tome-of-insanity/
I started to call the Shell station when I suddenly see the BMW parked in the grass, partially hidden by a tree. SCORE one for the Skywalkers… Darth Vader – zippo!
I parked beside Dad’s car. My hands were shaking as I shut the door of my rental bucket (a Nissan, courtesy of Hertz), and I strode into the Shell station’s convenience store. I guess I was wearing an ugly game face because the Hispanic Guy behind the counter immediately seemed unnerved at the sight of me. I glanced at his name tag: JORGE JAVA…
In a heavy Spanish accent, Jorge said, “Can I help you, Ma’am?”
Okay, we’ll let the MA’AM insult go this time. “Yeah, you can tell me where the guy is who’s been driving that stolen BMW there,” I said in my best MEGA-bitch voice while pointing to Dad’s car…
Jorge definitely had that, Oh, shit, hide the coffee can look (you know… the coffee can with his illegal SMOKES)…not to be confused with the oh, shit, the wife’s here…
“What? It’s stolen?”
“Where is he? Danny? About six-foot tall, dark hair? He said he works here?”
“Yeah, he work here. In the back, smoke break,” Jorge pointed behind him.
“Thank you,” and just as I turned around, I see Danny walking into the store, without a CARE in the world…in a gray SHELL uniform shirt and dirty jeans.
“What’re you doing here?” Danny asked, looking puzzled.
“Okay, never mind the fact you never RETURNED the car,” I said, glancing back at Jorge, who looked away. “I got the BMW registered, and Everett is ready to buy it,” I said as we walked outside.
And the OMG really look was PRICELESS. No, it’s not rocket science. You kill a bunch of trees filling out forms, and then open your checkbook and let it bleed for awhile…
“But it has to be inspected,” I said.
“Why?” Whereupon, Danny, Mr. Responsible, starts ARGUING with me about the rules of the DMV because, you know, the laws that apply to man, beast, and the universe don’t apply to my brother, King Danny.
“Look, Danny, feel free to call the DMV. I don’t know why, something about the VIN numbers matching to make sure it’s not stolen.”
He frowned, but he seemed to believe me. “So, can you follow me back to Nana’s because it can’t be sold until it’s inspected. I’ll bring you back to work.”
“Yeah, okay. Just let me tell Jorge I’m going to lunch.” And he disappeared inside the store.
I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT! I’m sure at that moment, it was snowing in hell….because Danny actually did something RIGHT!
But things don’t go as well back to the house. After he removed what looked like half his wardrobe (in big black trash bags) from the BMW as well as a couple bags of groceries and enough fast food trash to fill a small dumpster, he turns to me and says, “So, when’re you getting it inspected?”
And, of course, like a dumb ass, I said, “On Monday.” It was Saturday. I really need to do some work on learning Darth’s ability to LIE.
“Then, you don’t need it today.”
Oh, God, YES, I DO… because you’ll be guzzling crack all weekend and forget that Monday exists, and I’ll be sitting there crying in SQUARE ONE…
“Yes, I do. It’s not insured. If you have an accident, Dad’s estate will be liable.”
“I’m not gonna have an accident,” he scoffed.
Yeah, okay, someone who drinks 6-10 beers a day while consuming God knows how much crack on a given weekend is NOT likely to have an accident…instead, I replied, “Oh, carrying a crystal ball these days, are you?”
“I have to get to work!” he screamed.
“Well, you know, if we’d been able to sell Mom and Dad’s house, you could’ve bought yourself a really nice Mustang or something with that twenty grand-”
“Fuck you, Princess!”
“Don’t call me Princess, you fucking crackhead!” Yeah, that was awesome. He charged past me and practically bounced into the BMW.
Flat-eyed glares exchanged between us as he started the car…”You can ride the bus.”
“No, I can’t. It doesn’t run early enough. Bullshit, like he EVER checked a bus schedule in his life. NOT MY PROBLEM, asshole! Jump start brain, KENNEDY. Instead, I let PANIC do the talking. “Look, just… TAKE my rental car.” WTF? Did I just say that? Jesus, H, what the HELL am I doing?
And, then, I remembered- Danny’s laptop is in the trunk. Why? Well, he said it wasn’t “working”, that he was going to buy a new one. Uhm, no, it had more viruses than your average toy box at a day care… only his were from PORN sites… ugh…one look at his browser, and, yeah….
I knew my husband, Charlie, the IT guy, could fix it. We could then sell it and pay down some of the astronomical credit card debt I’d racked up because of DANNY.
I put his Vaio, which he’d bought on Nana’s dime, of course, in the trunk in case Danny dropped by before we changed the locks… and left it there for fear he’d break in and so… I said, “Just let me get a few things out of the car.”
I grabbed a bag of groceries from the backseat that I’d just bought that were in a reusable bag. With Danny on my heels, I actually managed to open the trunk and slink his laptop carefully into the canvas Publix bag before he got to the back of the car. I could NOT believe he didn’t notice!!! Just call me BOND, TENACIOUS BOND..but no olives in that shaken martini, please. They make me BURP…:)
However, he was blathering on about this ’97 Bronco he wants to buy. He was way too involved in his OWN monologue to notice what I was doing! 🙂
I was only given about 30 seconds to bask in the glow of pride for my STEALTH as I headed into the house to put the “groceries” away when Danny said, “Let me borrow your phone.”
“No, use the house phone. I’m almost outta minutes-”
“Then, give me Everette’s number.”
“Look, I’ve gotta go pick up Nana at the beauty shop, and you know how she freaks if you’re a minute late,” I said walking over to the BMW and opening the driver’s side door. But just as I sat down, he grabbed the door and got in my face.
“Give me Everett’s number, Kennedy. Right now,” in his best BAD ASS BULLY will rearrange your face GROWL.
“Fine. Back off, Cujo,” I said, grabbing my phone from my pocket. I knew if he talked to Everett, he would so KILL the sale. “Hold on,” I said, as I furiously deleted Everett from my contacts. “Hmm…, oh fuck.” And I was getting THE LOOK… he knew what I was doing….
“I can’t find it,” I mumbled as I erased the last text from Everett when…
“Bullshit.” And he snatched the phone from me.
“Give me that! It cost me $300.”
The death glare from Danny…then, his face tightened in a very tell-tale sign of temper. “What the fuck is wrong with this phone?”
My Guardian Angel must’ve been assisting because my phone suddenly decided to implode.
“It’s all white. What’d you do to it?” Danny showed me the screen, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I dropped it last winter onto an asphalt parking lot, and occasionally, it locks up for no reason,” I said… and then, judging from Danny’s SCOWL, I assumed it was now reconfiguring itself (which lasts about 45 seconds) another side effect of its smack down with the pavement.
With a PISSED OFF sigh, he handed me the phone, as an avalanche of numbers crossed the screen. SCORE TWO – Skywalkers… DARTH VADER… zippo!
“Call him and ask him if he could front me the $1200,” he said, “I could use it to buy that Bronco.”
What an inappropriate and unreasonable request! “He’s not gonna do that, Danny. He barely knows you, and he probably doesn’t have that much cash to spare.”
“OH, yes, he does. He’s loaded.”
I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll text him.”
“You better, you fucking bitch.”
I rolled my eyes and started texting knowing the laughable NO that question would receive.
Yeah, whatever…like Danny is now privy to the intimate details of Everett’s finances after 3 phone calls. I wish I could live in HIS world some days! And why would ANYONE fork out that much cash when they don’t have possession of the vehicle yet? Jesus, H…
My heart was GRINDING in an unhappy rhythm as Danny drove away. However, I was VERY glad I’d bought the renter’s insurance, which I usually DON’T do. But after wrecking my SUV, I felt investing in as much insurance as POSSIBLE was BEST.
I also texted Everett that, by no means, did I EXPECT Everett to loan Danny ANY cash…that I wouldn’t give Danny cab fare, much less $1200. When I didn’t hear back from him, I feared he was backing out.
To my surprise, he left a message on my cell on Sunday saying he still wanted the BMW and to let him know as soon as the car was officially registered.
Huh…again, WHAT A GREAT GUY….
“You know, you’ll probably never see that rental car again,” my friend, Calista said when I called her to give her an update.
“I know that’s entirely possible. But if he doesn’t bring it back, I’ll report it stolen.”
“Man, I hope all this shit is over soon, you’re starting to think like him,” Calista said, laughing.
“Yeah, tell me about it….”
After the inspection, it cost $500+ to register Dad’s car because we needed an expedited registration. Apparently, the state of Georgia usually MAILS it to you, which would’ve only cost $278…In Ohio, they give you your new tags registration right there at the BMV. Additionally, I had to write a bad check (technically) for said fees, btw, because Georgia ‘s DMV doesn’t accept credit cards (egad), but I’ve heard they WILL accept goats and livestock as alternate currency….THANK YOU, TO THE GODZ of banking, however, for the $2,000 overdraft on my checking account.
With that, I will bid you, adieu…. hold on though, boys and GIRLS, there’s more mischief and bullshit a foot! 🙂
Peace out from the Geriatric SWAMP…