Thrifty

11

The incident with Valerie happened about a week ago, and frankly, I'm bummed. Don't get me wrong. Part of me is relieved that the police believed me, and let me off the hook. They even paid Anthony a visit for questioning to find him in his birthday suit with Valerie's friend draped over his shoulder. They were shocked and hurt to hear what happened.

They also felt guilty about how Valerie treated me and offered to give me rides. My exact response was, "Hell, no." I would rather take my chances with a psychotic killing truck driver than go in a car with Anthony, or god forbid another one of his crazy chicks. What bums me out is I can't kill without proper transpiration.

Today, Daisy asked me if I needed a ride. I was sweeping, well almost sweeping. The broom is upside down and scraping the concrete floor. "Thanks, but I'm okay. My grandparents asked farmer Ed to sell me a car. It was all I can afford with my salary." Farmer Ed is ancient compared to my grandparents. He wears plaid, overalls, and is more wrinkled than a Sharpe dog. They are good friends and by chance he sells cars on the side.

Today, I'm going to see what car they stuck me with. That's the only catch. I'm dreading it. It's almost as bad as not driving at all. All too soon my shift ended, and my mom and grandparents are driving me to the farm to pick up my chosen vehicle. "I swear if you end up crashing it or giving someone else a ride and they steal it, I'm not helping you, nor are your grandparents." My mom sneered as she drove us. I just rolled my eyes. She's bluffing. She'll always help out and besides, my grandparents would find a way to help me one way or another.

When we arrived, they told me to close my eyes. "That's stupid. I'm here to get an oldies car for 700 bucks, not some brand-new convertible." My grandma glared at me and I gave in. Might as well get this over with. Grandma guided me by linking arms with me. We finally came to a stop. "Okay, now open your eyes Jeremy." There in front of me is a seventies Ford mustang. It's cherry red and looks gorgeous. I began tearing up. That's when farmer Ed came with keys in his hand. "Sorry folks. I left my mustang out." He got in and moved it aside to reveal my car.

What the hell? There in front of me is another thirty-year-old Oldsmobile car. Except this one is all grey with some rusted splotches on the hood. My mom couldn't help it and howled with laughter. She sounded like a caffeinated hyena. This is just as shocking as when the other Oldsmobile was torched. I think I already miss the first one. Is there any chance I can save it from the junk yard?