Congratulations on Fixing Your Car!

Remember when you hit that last homeless guy and your windshield was all fucked up? Well today your cousin Reggie is going to stop by your house, and Reggie knows how to fix cars.

“Hey man,” he’ll say, pounding on your door. “Hey, I need a place to lay low for a while.” He’ll be looking around like he expects the cops to roll up on him at any second. You’ll let him in, wringing your hands and shaking your head.

“Reggie, what did you do this time?” He’ll be sitting on your couch when you ask, lighting up a crack pipe.

“Misunderstanding,” he’ll cough out. “They thought I was selling crack, but I was actually hiding a body.”

You’ll nod, understandingly. T’was Reggie, after all, who helped you ditch the homeless guy’s corpse after that fateful night. But Reggie, even though he knows how to work on cars, refused to help you out by fixing your ride. But now the ball will be in your court.

“Fuck you, man,” you’ll say. “Fix my car.”

Reggie will throw down his crack pipe and stand up in your face. “Fuck you man! I helped you get rid of that body!”

You’ll sigh. He’ll have a point.

“You have a point,” you’ll say. He’ll nod and scratch his chin, covered in half beard.

“Actually, there’s one thing. Do it and I’ll help you out, bro.”

You’ll want to correct him about his use of the term bro to refer to someone who is clearly his cousin, but it’ll seem out of turn, so instead you’ll nod and say “Tell me more.”

He’ll lay out the plan. If you sell crack for him so that he can afford to pay off some crooked cops so that they’ll stop looking for him for selling crack when he was really hiding a body he’ll help fix your car, even though he sees the two of you as even because he already helped you hide that body that time he fixed your car before.

“This is complicated,” you’ll say.

He’ll nod in response and stand there tapping his foot.

“Alright, I’ll help you,” you’ll finally shout, throwing up your hands and grabbing his backpack full of crack. You’ll carry it out to the wrong side of the tracks and walk back and forth holding a cardboard sign listing a number of crack varieties and their prices. It won’t be great, but it’ll get your car fixed, assuming you aren’t picked up by the cops and ass raped in prison for seven years due to zero tolerance laws.

Congratulations on Fixing Your Car!