10775/Pimp My Ride

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Pimp My Ride
Date of Scene: 18 January 2020
Location: Fix-It-All Tow
Synopsis: Guido prepares to have his dreams come true when he gets Grease Monkey to take on his automobile fixer-upper problem.
Cast of Characters: Strong Guy, Grease Monkey




Strong Guy has posed:
It's nearing the end of the business day, and the number of patrons begins to dwindle.

From up the street, there's a bit of honking. Several cars appear to race down the block faster than they normally would.

A few minutes later, a beat-up compact car rolls up into the parking lot. It moves quietly--mostly because it's not actually begin driven. It's being pushed ... by a man whose upper body appears to be larger than the car itself.

"Hey!" he calls out in a deep, booming voice toward the garage. "You still open? I gotta, whaddayacallit, customization request."

Grease Monkey has posed:
    Fix-It All-Tow gets to see many different types of cars. Trucks. SUVS. Mini-vans. Vehicles, period. And as the name would suggest, sometimes they're not driven in - so that alone isn't strange. Pushed in, though?...that's more uncommon. Pushed in by someone practically bigger than the car?...
    The uniformed man pulling the chain down to close one of the bays stares in astonishment for a moment before calling inside, "Hey, Monkey! You workin' tonight?" Apparently, someone inside answers back, because the man promptly jerks his head towards the bay at the end. "See if the kid can help you, otherwise, tomorrow, yeah?" There's a slight nervousness in their manner, but they seem a little relieved with the idea they're about to make the new arrival someone else's problem.
    And that 'someone else' appears to indeed be a kid, probably somewhere in their teens- poking their head out to see what's going on.

Strong Guy has posed:
"Yeah, uh, I ain't haulin' this thing back again, you know?" the ludicrously proportioned large man says, a deep frown on his face. "I just about got a ticket pushin' this thing here." He slaps the top of the car to punctuate his statement and ends up leaving a hand-shaped impression on it.

"Well, hell," he grumbles. "Anyway. I guess we can add that to the list'a stuff'ta do." The man clears his throat. "Okay. Here's the thing. I just came into possession of this here sweet ride." He grins and leans in slightly. "Guy I wuz gonna kick outta my buddy's bar gave it so's he could finish his drink."

The car is coated in grime, has at least two differently painted car doors on it, and only one hubcap. A light cloud of dirt that had been kicked up from the slap settles back onto the automobile surface.

"But," the man adds, "as you might guess ... I can't fit into it. I need that taken care of."

Grease Monkey has posed:
    Now that the big (and strong) guy is no longer his problem, the first mechanic seems inclined to just ignore him. The 'kid', on the other hand, steps out and approaches without a trace of fear, their - tail? yes, that sure is a tail - curling slightly behind them as they examine the vehicle. Goggles are brought down, and a few, "'Uh-huh, uh-huhs' are given as the story is told and they examine the...piece.
    It's definitely a piece, all right.
    "You, uh. Mind if I have the keys?" They ask after a moment, glancing at Strong Guy. "Just wanna check the dash."

Strong Guy has posed:
"Uh," the large man says, patting his shirt and pants. "Yeah, sure." He slowly and daintly slips his index finger and thumb into his pants, the lower half of his body being comically smaller than the upper. After twenty or thirty seconds, he manages to retrieve the key.

"Here ya go," he offers, the key lying on his upturned palm. "Seems to run fine, but I had a helluva time testin'--mostly turnin' the ignition by reaching through the passenger door and then revving the engine after walkin' around to the driver door."

The man nods at the tail. "You a mutant?" he asks, eyebrows rising. "Didn't expect that, but it explains why yer buddy didn't tell me to go to hell first thing."

Grease Monkey has posed:
    Busying themselves with peering at one of the tires, it's no big deal at all to wait for the keys. The fact they exist seems to satisfy them at least in some small part, and when it's offered, they neatly reach over to pluck it from the other's hand. "Well, running fine is one thing. Whether or not it runs enough to haul, ah..." A signifigant glance is given before they smile - smirk really. "Uh-huh. They tend to pass on the ones they don't wanna work on to me, but joke's on them. I get the cooler projects. You can call me Monkey, everybody else does. Now, let's see if looks are deceiving..."
    With that, they make to open the driver's side and fumble the key in. A quick adjustment to the seat if possible to account for their small size, and it's clear they're planning to drive it in to the single bay left open.

Strong Guy has posed:
"Well," the large man says, adjusting the tiny pair of glasses covering his eyes, "I'll call ya that only if you want me ta call ya that. I don't wanna be callin' ya anything that stings."

As the car is started, it belches out some black smoke and whines--but moves as though its emergency brake were being set and unset.

The large man walks beside the car, taking in the sights of the garage as he moves.

"Purrs like a kitten, don't it?" He chuckles. "Can't believe I finally got a car. Seems almost unnecessary, but I'll be damned if I don't want to show it off anyway ..."

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "I mean, there's worse things they could call me," Monkey seems rather indifferent, all told. "I usually /go/ by GM but that's just 'cause 'Grease Monkey's a mouthful!"
    The garage is about what you'd expect to see in this part of Williamsburg; there seems to be a waiting room that's kept clean, if the window leading in to it is any hint, but the garage itself is a bit of a mess. Somewhat less of a mess seeing as it's been tidied up with the end of the day, but the best that can be said about it is that it's 'tidy'. Or at least in the process of /being/ tidied, until a certain end-of-day-customer came, but, hey. GM seems happy about the distraction?
    Once the car is rolled on to the lift proper, GM pulls out a small notepad from a pocket and takes down a quick notes about info from the dash. "'Syour first car? That...kind've explains a lot, 'coz I'm gonna be honest with you, if you paid even five bucks for this I'd have said you were scammed. The good news, though?" Another smirk is given as they look up. "You brought it to the best possible place, 'cause not only do I like fun stuff like this, but I can /totally/ make it fire lasers if I wanted to."
    A beat. "I mean, if /you/ wanted to, 'cause it's your car and all. But I could totally do that!"

Strong Guy has posed:
The large man stares at Grease Monkey for almost an uncomfortably long time.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "I was workin' through a conversation with my buddy. In my head, you know. Thinkin' through it. 'Cuz I'll be honest ... that does sound amazing. But I really shouldn't."

The man taps a finger on his chin several times. "Really, I'd just love this thing to ride smooth, sit me in it, maybe a passenger or two--I'm a sucker for pretty faces--an' look /not/ like it got dropped off a cliff into a city dump."

"So," he sighs, "can ya work that miracle for me?"

Grease Monkey has posed:
    The smile begins to fade over time, and Grease Monkey begins to look like they have doubts. Finally coughing in to their fist, sheepishly climbing out of the car, and- finally perking back up when it becomes clear the other guy was at least /considering/ the idea.
    "No problem!" Back to cheerfulness, then. "I mean, all of that's fairly basic with what you want in a car. You've got four wheels and a-" pause, glance, "-and /no/ running board, but I can probably make it work. S'just...lot of figuring out what's useful and what's not." They lean forwards, elbows on the hood, chin resting on their hands. "Now, what I can do is take a day to dissassemble this thing and figure out exactly what's needed. I can give you the market quote, /or/ if you have some sort of hookup we can figure out a better price for the parts. Or something else." A light shrug. "I got some flexibility, but I mean, I'm no Magneto. Maybe Car-Neato, but." A snicker.

Strong Guy has posed:
"Yeah, no ..." the man says, sighing and shaking his head. "I got no special hook-up. I wish I did. I knew this guy who was just /incredible/ with machines, but ... well, I ain't talked to him in a minute."

He rubs the bald top of his head. "I don't really know what you gotta do, either, to make 'er work. So I might ask some dumbass questions when I get that quote. Also--please tell me yer not just gonna sawzall the top off an' tell me I gotta drive a convertible, are ya?"

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "Trust me, I've heard dumber." GM promptly mimicks what is clearly a former customer; "'What do you mean you have to replace the axel!? I only ran over the curb a little!'" A shrug, and they straighten up. "And like I said, it's your car - 'mnot gonna do anything without you signing off on it, trust me, I've gotten reamed for that before - so while I might have maybe probably really been thinking about that, if you don't wanna do that, I get to figure out another option."
    A short pause, and then the kid brings their hand to their chin. "I mean, I could /make/ it a convertible, but if I did the roof'd be actually the kind that could come over and you being tall's not the problem here."

Strong Guy has posed:
The large man folds his arms across his chest, leans over toward Grease Monkey until he's only a few inches from their face, and scowls. "You callin' me fat?" he asks, icily, staring at the mechanic.

Ten seconds later, he bursts out laughing and stands back up straight, clapping one hand against the other arm's bicep. "Haw haw! I'm jus' kiddin'. Yeah, I know. I'm a big boy--and I got big needs!" He shakes his head, still laughing. "You shoulda seen the look on yer face, though," the man adds, turning around to see if anyone else caught the joke.

"I'm an unappreciated comic genius," he mutters to himself, before glancing back to Monkey. "Okay. So how long's the, uh, whatchacallit, evaluation? Assessment? Exam?"

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "Uh." Blink. Blink. Lean back. "I'm...calling you totally able to kick my butt if you wanted to so please don't?" And then it becomes clear that he's joking, to which Monkey actually startles a bit before snorting and pretending to their notepad at him. "Jerk! I'm charging you an asshole tax for that." But it seems pretty clear they're joking as well, pulling back their hand with the hint of a smile on their face. "For real, though. Gimmie...two days, meybe three? I mean if you really want you can check tomorrow," they add with a shrug. "But I don't know if they'll give me other stuff to do, I've still gotta finish cleaning this place up before I lock up for the night. Anyway. The Cunning Car-Neato should be able to get you a quote and a few paths of action before too long, and if you wanna give me some details, I can reach out to you soon's I'm done. Sound fair, big guy?"

Strong Guy has posed:
With a nod, the large man adjusts his glasses and smiles. "Yeah, well, I know I deserve that tax. Don't blame ya for it. But," he quickly adds, "all the same, I'm glad yer jokin'."

At the provision of the timetable, the man nods again. "Sure. If the car can stay here, take yer time. Last thing I wanted ta do was roll 'er back home tonight. And, if we're showin' off our cool names, it's not 'big guy'. It's 'Strong Guy'. But 'Guido' works just as well." He offers a toothy, awkward smile.

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "I can find an excuse." With that, Grease Monkey heads off to the side, rustling through some papers. "'Specially if we make it official and all. Standard disclaimer we don't sell information, yadda yadda yadda." A clipboard with pen attached is promptly handed up to - Guido, it seems, as the almost-shorter-by-two-feet GM tilts their head at the 'cool name'. "'Strong Guy'?...well, I guess you'd have to be if you pushed that thing in." They smile back, clearly amused. "I'll keep you posted. I visit scrapyards pretty often anyway, shouldn't be too hard to keep an eye out for other pieces I could use for that thing."

Strong Guy has posed:
"I'd help, if I knew what ta look for," Guido replies. "But it seems like that's yer area of expertise. Mine's bein' strong, like you said. So I'll stay in my lane fer now, 'less some other car makes its way to my possession. But I doubt it." He shrugs and begins filling out the paperwork he's given. "You need a deposit or anything like that ta look for parts?"

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "Tell you what, I find an engine, I'll let you know. Those things are heavy." A shudder. "No deposit up front, technically, but if you wanna leave something /I/ can leave one on whatever IU find to hold 'em and make sure they're not taken up by someone else. Right now we're kind of just saying, 'hey, I'm leaving this here, it's still mine, blah blah blah no authorization to do anything but look at it for now'."
    More or less. GM's not in the habit of scamming people, and the shop certainly isn't. It's a fairly standard new-customer form, if Guido's paying close attention.

Strong Guy has posed:
"Sure, sure, sure," Guido replies, gently fishing several bills out of his back pocket. "Here's a Benjamin fer the trouble. Deposit 'n all. I'm happy fer the help, especially if you really think you can make this work."

He offers a muted smile as he hands the money and paperwork back to the mechanic. "Anythin' else you might need from me? Otherwise I gotta get to my night job. Time to make the donuts, so ta speak."

Grease Monkey has posed:
    "Like I said, you brought it to the best place." The bills are neatly taken without a hint of over-eagerness, only business. "If anyone can make it work, it's me - lasers or not." A quick skim of the paperwork, and a thumbs-up. "You're good to go, Guido-Guy. Here's our card-" a flick of the hand and there's a rather standard one being offered, except this one has what looks like a stylized 'G' hand-drawn upon it. "-and if you ask for Monkey they'll get you to me. Sound good?"
    A brief glance at the car, and then back at Guido. "...and just to be clear, no convertible option at all or is that something we just put on the back burner?"

Strong Guy has posed:
"Ahh. I'd rather have a hard-top, if possible. Need to be able to be, ya know, incognito. When needed. I can't have my ride constantly gettin' swarmed by everybody lustin' after these pythons." Guido flexes for just a second and then laughs. "But in all seriousness--no convertible, please."

He slips the card into his pocket and pats it. "I'll keep this on hand. And I look forward to hearin' about how you can make my dreams come true. 'Cuz I want to get out of those dreams and into my car."

With another chuckle, Guido begins to moonwalk out of the garage, humming the tune.