I’d just walked out of a bar after two vodkas and was proudly admiring my brand-new car.
That white paint was incredible! The car wasn’t just beautiful—it was a genuine magnet. Everybody noticed it.
Holy shit, I thought. This car looks amazing! It’s absolutely gorgeous. Mesmerizing!
Hey, how the hell did I not think of this before? I could use it as some kind of… chick vacuum! I’ll drive around downtown right now and see what kind of women I can pick up with it. The hottest of the hot!
I’m gonna be unstoppable!
As so often happens in life, the solution had been right under my nose the whole time.
I jumped into the car and headed downtown with a grin on my face. The women were waiting for me, and I was about to become their god!
Parking downtown is a nightmare.
After circling a few times, I found a spot, but it wasn’t exactly generous. I knew how to drive in reverse, of course, but I hadn’t yet mastered that bizarre maneuver known as backing into a parking space.
I got out and inspected the car carefully, then slapped myself on the forehead. I’d scratched the rear bumper!
Not much. Barely a hair. A microscopic speck of white paint was gone.
My heart started pounding, and something stabbed me in the chest.
Shit, I’m gonna have a panic attack! I thought in terror.
Having a panic attack would not be good, so I walked into the first bar I saw and ordered a double vodka.
You miserable idiot, how can you be so irresponsible? I asked myself mournfully. The scratch may look tiny now, but sooner or later rainwater will get in there and then comes the rust! First thing tomorrow morning, this car is going straight to the body shop! And I really need to learn how to back into a parking space once and for all. Did I set the parking brake?
I ordered another vodka, knocked it back, and walked outside with my head hanging like a man on his way to the electric chair.
I stared through the window, trembling.
Victory!
I had set the parking brake!
Everything was fine!
I whistled at the first young woman I saw somewhere around the Opera district. Naturally, I hadn’t whistled to insult her. I’d merely wanted to get her attention.
I hate men who whistle at women.
“Hey, hi! I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to ask you something. What do you think of my car? Pretty good, huh?”
“Pretty good,” the girl said after looking at both the car and me. “Why are you asking? Are you conducting a survey?”
“Oh, no! I was just thinking maybe we could… take it for a spin. Come on, hop in! The interior looks amazing!”
“No, thank you.”
“You sure? I could drive you home if you want. What do you say?”
“Yeah. Bye.”
I approached the second woman, who had just come out of a store, much more efficiently.
“What do you think of my car? Be honest!”
“What do you think of mine?” she shot back without even looking at me.
She pulled her keys from her purse and unlocked the doors. Her car went beep-beep! and flashed its turn signals prettily.
It was a red sports car.
Yes.
Fire-engine red.
“Why so quiet?” she asked, putting on her sunglasses. “You like it or not?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, scratching my head.
“I’m serious!” she insisted, flashing every tooth she had.
“Yeah. Bye.”
She had actually managed to piss me off.
I revved the engine viciously and shot away.
Be a little more selective, man, I told myself. Why waste your time on all these stuck-up bitches?
From that moment on, I chose them very carefully.
“Hi! Would you like to—”
“Get lost, asshole!”
“Hi! Would you like to—”
“Fuck off, you creep!”
“Hi! Would you like to—”
“Hey, dickhead! You hitting on my girlfriend?”
Half an hour later, I was beginning to have serious doubts about my car.
Then suddenly I saw her.
She was standing calmly beside a lamppost, checking her watch.
Perseverance, I reminded myself, was an essential quality in a man.
It was worth another try.
The woman looked fantastic!
She was holding a tiny white dog on a leash. A poodle.
Even the poodle looked fantastic.
“Hi! Would you like to—”
“To what?” she said, lazily turning her head toward me.
Holy Mother of God, I thought, my mouth falling open. This is the finest female specimen I have ever seen in my life. I need to be delicate with this one. She is the ultimate woman! The immaculate woman!
She really did look beyond imagination.
God had probably gotten bored during His lunch break one day and said to Himself:
Oh, Me, I’m bored! What should I do? I know! I’ll make… the perfect woman!
Yes.
This was her.
And she was standing right there in front of me, gently tugging on her little dog’s leash.
For a moment I wished I were her dog and she were tugging me around on a leash.
Then the poodle turned around and I realized it wasn’t a male dog but a female.
I quickly dismissed the thought.
Damn shame about the makeup, I thought. It should be a crime to have a face that beautiful and put makeup on it! But fine. This time I’m willing to make an exception.
In my mind, the exemption was proposed, reviewed, and granted in less than a second.
“If you wanted me to what?” God’s creature repeated.
“Uh… well… to…”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Swallow your tongue? Or did you forget your lines?”
“What lines?” I said with a smile. “Ohhh, you thought I was trying to pick you up? Not my style! I just wanted to ask whether you like my car. That’s all!”
“The car looks okay,” she chirped, “but somebody’s driving it wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“The driver’s backward.”
“What?”
“Oh, sorry! My mistake. That was your face.”
“Listen here!” I growled. “I don’t appreciate that kind of… hic… joke! I don’t see anything funny!”
“Probably because you haven’t looked in a mirror, Ass-Face!” she giggled, batting her long eyelashes.
She was a woman.
And she was laughing at me.
A man.
I saw red.
All right, if it has to be done, it has to be done, I decided, accepting my fate. I’ll kill her and get it over with. She goes to the cemetery, I go to prison, and the poodle goes to the animal shelter. I just need to lure her into the car. The rest will take care of itself.
Then I remembered that I’d sworn to my mother I would never hit a woman, and a deep sadness came over me.
Wait a minute, I thought. Killing a woman isn’t the same thing as beating her! Not necessarily! There are more humane methods. I could strangle her, for example. Where’s the beating? There is no beating! Mom can sleep peacefully, I preserve my honor, everybody wins!
“Listen, why don’t you get in the car for a minute?” I asked in a friendly tone. “Come on, hop in! We can examine the dashboard, I’ll let you play with the buttons, stuff like that. I think we could talk much more comfortably in here. Bring the dog too! I’ve got dog treats.”
Like hell I did.
The truth was, I’d changed my mind.
Whether I liked it or not, the poodle would have to disappear too. I couldn’t afford to leave witnesses.
Besides, animal shelters were overcrowded.
Still, killing a dog really isn’t okay, I thought in horror. I’ll go to hell for that! Nnn… no. I’m not killing the dog. That would just be pointless cruelty! I’ll put it in the glove compartment so it doesn’t have to watch…
“What exactly would we talk about?” she drawled, looking at her watch again. “What would I possibly have to talk about with you?”
“Absolutely anything! You choose the subject. I’m extremely well-read, so we can discuss anything you like: dogs, forensic medicine, science, religion. Speaking of religion, do you believe in the afterlife? Have you met Jesus?”
“Why do you ask?” she said, clearly even more amused. “Are you one of those nuts who walks around handing out pamphlets and magazines?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t really have the face of a Jehovah’s Witness, but you never know. What are you, sweetheart? Baptist? Adventist? Pentecostal?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you want us to have Bible study in your car?”
“Extremely biblical,” I said, grinding my teeth in the friendliest way possible until I heard something crack in my mouth and tasted salt on my tongue. “We can even analyze the Gospel of Judas if you want.”
“Can my boyfriend join us?” she asked, laughing. “Look, here he comes now.”
“What boyfriend?”
“That gorgeous male specimen with the broad shoulders and muscular arms. So what do you think now, Bible Boy? Like his pecs?”
I stared at him for a while and had to admit to myself that I did not like his pecs.
Or his deltoids.
Or his biceps.
The guy looked like a refrigerator on two legs.
What the hell was there to like?
Just looking at the bastard was giving me a headache.
“You know something?” I asked her contemptuously. “You don’t deserve to meet Jesus at all! You’re not behaving like a Christian! In fact, you’ve got a filthy mouth, so go fuck yourself!”
I started the car and drove away victorious.
It was time to find another bar.
I desperately needed one.
Too bad she wasn’t more cooperative, I thought a few minutes later as I ordered another vodka. She had a sharp tongue, sure, but she looked fantastic! Face it, man—perfect women don’t exist! Stop looking for them. Lower your standards!
You saw her. That woman had a perfect body, but she ruined the whole effect every time she opened her mouth. Thank God her refrigerator of a boyfriend showed up. Otherwise who knows what I might have done to that poodle!
A big television was mounted on the bar wall, tuned to some fishing program.
A bearded Frenchman was explaining interesting things about fishing in freshwater mountain lakes.
Just as I was about to order another vodka, my ears suddenly perked up.
I listened very carefully.
Then I broke into a huge smile.
That’s it! I thought triumphantly. This bearded guy isn’t stupid at all! He’s absolutely right: if the fish aren’t biting in the middle of the lake, you move to the edge of the lake! Elementary!
I paid my bill and staggered outside.
Which vodka had that been?
God only knew.
I walked like Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee, but eventually I managed to reach my car and somehow open the door.
Once I was in the driver’s seat, I felt myself swaying and spinning at the same time.
I nearly fell asleep, but I refused to surrender. I used my fingers to pry my eyelids open.
Everybody knows eyesight is important when it comes to driving.
There’s a reason they make you take all those eye tests before you get a driver’s license.
Anyway.
The time had come to move my fishing rod to the edge of the lake.
I put on my sunglasses and roared toward the outskirts of town.
I could feel myself falling asleep at the wheel.
My eyelids kept stubbornly sliding over my eyes, which is not an ideal situation when you’re crossing a city at more than sixty miles an hour.
I slapped myself.
Nothing.
Rolled down the windows.
Nothing.
All right, Vivaldi. I’m putting on some of your music, I told myself. If that doesn’t wake me up, then I deserve to die—and so do the people coming the other way!
One hand turned the steering wheel while the other dug deep into the glove compartment.
Eventually I found the CD.
Then I dropped it under the passenger seat.
Where the hell are you, you bastard? I thought angrily as I bent down to look beneath the seat.
Suddenly a long horn blasted behind me.
I’d drifted a little to the left, so I turned the wheel to the right.
The damned CD absolutely refused to be grabbed.
I leaned even farther down.
At that exact moment, somebody behind me unleashed a curse involving my mother, Easter, and several sacred Christian objects.
Which meant I had drifted again.
I quickly corrected the car.
At last I managed to pinch the cursed disc between two fingers and sit back up.
A few seconds later, Vivaldi’s music began elevating me spiritually once again and banished my sleepiness completely.
The bearded man on television had not lied.
I hadn’t even reached the outskirts yet, and already I could see an improvement.
There were fish everywhere.
Left side.
Right side.
They were already biting on my line.
Girls were waving at me.
My car had conquered them!
Unfortunately there were many of them, and I was only one fisherman with one fishing rod.
I’ll probably have to sort through them, I thought.
But what was there to sort?
On closer inspection, they all wore short skirts, they were all violently made up, and they all looked alike as two drops of vodka.
I drove up and down the road a few times, then accepted reality.
If I wanted some action that night, I would simply have to pick one at random and be done with it.
I spotted a girl waving cheerfully at me who seemed to be wearing slightly less makeup than the others.
I stopped gallantly right beside her.
She wasn’t shy at all.
She immediately stuck her head through the window.
She was a little on the darker side, but that hardly mattered.
I’m not racist when it comes to women.
“Hey, baby!” she greeted me cheerfully, chewing gum with her mouth wide open.
I wanted her inside my car as quickly as possible, so I had to be extremely polite.
After all those rejections, I did not want to screw things up again.
“Good… hic… evening, miss!”
“What you doing, baby?” she asked, winking at me. “You bored?”
“I believe so.”
“Wanna take a little ride together?”
Obviously the guy on television deserved the Nobel Prize!
People on the outskirts were much friendlier than those fucking assholes downtown.
I had to remember that.
“What do you think of my car, miss?” I asked, my heart in my throat. “Is it beautiful?”
She pulled her head out of the window, took a step back, and carefully inspected my chick vacuum.
Then, chewing her gum lazily and winking at me again, she delivered her verdict.
“Yeah, baby, that’s one badass car!”
Then she pursed her painted lips, nodded, and added:
“You’re not bad yourself. I can tell you’re a classy guy.”
“I certainly am!” I replied, propping my chin in my palm and looking at her through half an eye.
Look at that dress, I thought, blinking repeatedly. If it were half a hand shorter, I could see her… Lord forgive me!
“You okay, baby?” she suddenly asked.
“Yes, miss, I’m fine! Why?”
“Your eyelids are falling over your eyes!” she giggled, then turned her head and elegantly spat out her gum. “You sleepy, baby? Take a pill or something? Got anything good?”
“Good Lord, no! No, I haven’t taken… anything except maybe a drink or two.”
Then I had no idea what else to say.
In less than a minute I had exhausted every conversation starter I possessed.
We stared silently at each other until I felt my eyelids dropping again.
“So?” she said, waking me up. “What are we doing? Going for a little ride?”
“Yes, of course!” I said with a start.
I got out, opened her door for her, then struggled back into my own seat.
“Would you like me to… hic… show you what this car can do?”
“Does it work good?” she asked with a smile.
“I think so! Last time I turned the key, it worked perfectly!”
“Glad to hear it, baby. So how do you want to do this? Regular or… something else?”
Holy shit, I thought in amazement. This girl is really impatient. Maybe the poor thing’s as starved for it as I am. Who knows how long it’s been since she last saw a man? Well, that’s fine! God put her in my path!
Smart girl, too! I like that she’s direct. I mean, why beat around the bush? We both know what the other one wants, right? Still, let’s be gentlemen about this.
“Wouldn’t you rather discuss that a little later?”
“Whatever you want,” she said with a shrug. “It’s your time, baby.”
“Perhaps we should get something to eat first. Yes! Do you know a restaurant around here? Or maybe a bar? We could have a few stiff drinks, and afterward we’ll see what happens. Agreed?”
The girl looked at me as if I were a god.
“I like you, baby! You ain’t a pig like the others. Swear to God, I like you!”
“Oh, stop, stop,” I said, blushing.
“I swear on everything I love! The moment you showed up, I knew you had class. I like the way you treat women! I already feel like a queen! Look, go that way. I know a great restaurant!”
“I just hope we don’t get too close to downtown, miss,” I said nervously as I pulled away and changed lanes. “I wouldn’t want my… mother to see me.”
Shit, I thought. If my wife sees me, I’m dead.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, delicately picking her nose. “It’s close. Right over there! First right!”
I floored the accelerator and drove like that for about a minute, darting from lane to lane.
Then I abruptly passed some idiot and glanced sideways at her to see whether my driving skills had impressed her.
She looked back at me and smiled.
“Fifty if you want regular, another fifty for a blowjob, and if you want to fuck me in the ass, that’s another fifty.”
My eyes flew wide open.
No fingers required.
“WHAAAT?!” I screamed. “What the fuck did you just say?”
My right foot slammed the brake pedal all the way to the floor by itself.
There was an enormously long screech.
The girl flew out of her seat and spread herself across the entire windshield.
My head became personally acquainted with the steering wheel.
Then, almost immediately:
BOOM!
Something slammed into us from behind.
The girl shot off the windshield like a rocket and landed neatly back in her seat.
“You fucking idiot!” she screamed hysterically. “Why’d you hit the brakes? Look! I broke two nails!”
“They’ll grow back!” I replied dazedly, shaking my head to clear it.
I was about to tell her a few other things when the airbag in the steering wheel went POOF!, exploded into my face, and crucified me against the seat.
I patiently waited for it to deflate, then brushed the white powder off my shirt and pants while swearing.
I turned around and looked between the seats.
Some idiot was climbing unsteadily out of the other car and slowly lowering himself onto the pavement.
But that wasn’t what worried me most.
What worried me was that the rear end of my car did not look good at all.
Oh, great. He destroyed my car’s ass, I thought bitterly. What rotten luck! Now my wife is definitely going to notice. She won’t even need a microscope.
All right, don’t panic! What do you do now, man? Remember! Oh, right—you turn on the hazard lights! Perfect. There. Hazard lights on! Done. I’ve fulfilled my civic duty!
Beside me, the dark-haired girl was roaring as if her entire existence had been contained in those two fingernails.
Women.
I sighed, climbed out, and gave the man who had just sodomized my car a reproachful look.
“You fucking idiot!” he roared, getting up off the pavement. “Why’d you brake? Tell me! Why?”
“Calm down,” I said. “Don’t try to act tough. You know damn well it’s your fault!”
“WHAAAT?” he said, his eyes widening.
“Yes! It’s your fault, so quit making a scene. You should have been careful! You should have maintained a safe following distance! You hit me from behind, therefore you’re responsible. Case closed.”
“Like hell I am!” the sodomizer screamed, spit flying from his mouth.
“Give it up!” I said angrily. “I graduated driving school four days ago, so the material is still fresh in my mind. It works exactly the way I just told you. You were required to maintain a safe following distance!”
“A safe following distance?!” the sodomizer roared.
“Yes. A safe following distance!”
“A SAFE FOLLOWING DISTANCE?!” he snorted like a bull. “I’ll show you a fucking safe following distance!”
He spun around and stormed back toward his car.
He opened the trunk.
Then he came straight toward me.
In his hand was an enormous baseball bat.
So it’s true, I thought in amazement. Tell the truth and somebody’ll bash your head in.
Although I was a certified lunatic, on that particular occasion I behaved exactly like a normal person.
I turned around and ran.
After about two hundred paces, I stopped and looked back.
The girl who had told me I was a classy guy had gotten out of the car and was enthusiastically kicking the passenger door with her sharp heels.
The sodomizer was no longer chasing me.
He had returned to my car with the baseball bat and was smashing the mirrors and windshield to pieces.
In the end, the people on the outskirts weren’t quite as friendly as I had thought.
And that bearded bastard on television had lied to me shamelessly.
Fucking pervert.
I sighed and searched my pockets for a cigarette.
No luck.
Both my pack and my lighter were still sitting on the dashboard.
Defeated, I sat down on the curb.
Time passed slowly.
Minutes felt like hours.
Eventually those two devils got bored and went their separate ways.
I struggled to my feet like a sick man and walked back to recover whatever was left of my car.
I stared at it miserably.
Glass everywhere.
I couldn’t even find the key.
Even my Vivaldi CD had been snapped in half.
Fucking barbarians.
There was only one thing left inside the glove compartment:
the scrap of paper on which I had written Alfredo’s phone number.
Well, at least there’s that, I thought gloomily. A friend in need is a friend indeed.
I sighed, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and started dialing.
