The Peeler Flones Chronicles- Volume 12 Part I - Bodies and Chinese Babies
(as told by Wheeler Jones)
It was the 70's. For that alone, much can be forgiven. Any error in judgement or important detail omitted from this account can only be attributed to that.
Peeler Flones, long before his recent litigation with me, used to be a car salesman. Worse than that though: he was really good at it. Automotive sales in the 70's was a cutthroat business. Perhaps it still is. Peeler doesn't sell cars anymore, nor does he like to discuss it. I received this account over a large jug of high-octane apple cider. Or 4 jugs- I don't recall exactly. At one point there was a desperate urinal pinball episode that muddied such details.
Anyway, Peeler snagged a job at a used car lot outside of ------ . It was a prime spot, only a ? mile from a go-cart track and an historic ice cream stand. In other words, there was plenty of traffic and desperate people with cash in their pocket.
Peeler was a born salesman. He knew that he wasn't selling cars. He wasn't telling himself either. That's poetic romance and sheer conceit. Peeler was selling lies. That's all.
After 1 week on the job, Peeler has amassed nearly $4000 in commission. This was unheard of. The owner complained to Peeler that while he OWED Peeler the money, he was short on cash. Peeler questioned the owner on this as the margin was great on his sales, and it was a cash margin.
The owner recanted a long, sordid, but empty tale in response about 3 adopted Chinese babies, a mistress, and something about oil prices. Peeler refused to back down though and threatened the owner in a not too subtle way. A crowbar is a very fine negotiation tool he told me.
The owner backed down and agreed to give Peeler $2000 immediately and the best car on the lot to drive for a couple of days until the rest of the cash could be wrestled from little Ling Chu.
Peeler took the cash and the car.
(Now as a reader, you might wonder why Peeler simply didn't quit... I asked him this as well and his response was the following: "I had some trouble with a gaggle of nurses and a bucket of chicken and needed to stay under the radar." That was enough for me.)
Peeler drove off that day in the car. It was a 70's Corvette Stingray. He liked the car and decided to take a tour of downtown ------- . (I promised not to mention the city as it could nail Peeler down legally) 80mph downtown in the city and a bad thing happened.
Something to do with a bicycle courier and an unexpected left turn.
The outcome was swift.
The car veered hard left, hit the curb, then through the front window of a certain large clothing store.
In Peelers words now: "I heard the crash. Felt it too. Time slowed down. That's just not some movie bullshit. It really does slow down. My life didn't flash in front of my eyes though, but I did briefly think about the Chinese babies and my two grand. Then the bodies started flying. First I saw a leg pass over the t-top, then an arm, then a whole person, each with a sickening thud. They're not lying about that either. Thuds really can be sickening. It was kind of a hollow thud too. And that made it worse. I closed my eyes and kept my foot hard on the brake. When the crashing and the thuds stopped, I opened my eyes. It was really my day. I was lucky. I didn't murder a single person. Store mannequins. Dismembered and fucked up beyond reason sure. But no people."
Peeler got out of the car and did what any reputable car salesman would do. He fled.
Later he called his boss on a payphone. Told him what happened, and immediately suggested reporting the car stolen from the lot. The boss, while initially annoyed, liked this turn of events, knowing that the car would fetch more written off than sold. He also liked the prospect of having this on Peeler should there be any crowbar negotiations in the future. He told Peeler to come back to the lot.
Peeler did this.
When he got back to the lot, his boss informed him that he made the call to the police and coincidentally, they knew where the car was. They would be stopping by shortly.
Peeler wasn't worried. He changed clothes by then and had given himself an impromptu brush cut at his apartment, just in case someone could ID him. Peeler knew this was probably overkill, but he didn't want to risk it.
A few hours later the police had come and gone, Peeler sold another car, and the boss decided to cut out early. Peeler, feeling a bit frisky from the sale and the crash asked about another loaner car.
The boss, feeling magnanimous and satisfied that he was going to make out damn well in this whole fiasco, threw Peeler the keys to a Jaguar. Peeler was ok with this and jumped in, thinking a ride in the country might be just the thing for him. He had friend out there, and knew a shortcut to the house.
-Wheeler Jones
End of Volume 12 Part I
NEXT: Part II- The Incredible Railroad Fiasco and the Injustice of Speed
***********
Administrative Notes: The conclusion of this story will be posted next week. Also, a Rubber Duckie story is in the hopper.
Have a nice weekend,
A.S.
Posted by captainhoof
at 5:01 AM CDT
Updated: Friday, 20 August 2004 11:43 AM CDT
