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get your kicks

The cast:
Mr. Pink., a middle-aged South Asian gas station manager
Mr. White., a 30-something obsessive automobile owner

The location:
Self-serve pump #2 at a Sunoco station in a medium-sized city outside of a slightly larger city. Day.

[Mr. White is refueling a red car. Mr. Pink approaches slowly. He places his hands on the rear fender of of Mr. White's car, opposite from where Mr. White is holding the pump nozzle in his car's fuel filler.]

Mr. Pink: I...
Mr. White: Please don't touch.
[Mr. Pink glances up at Mr. White, and moves closer, around the back of the car, still touching it.]
Mr. White: Please! Don't touch.
Mr. Pink: Uh?
Mr. White [annoyed]: Don't. Touch.
[A light bulb appears above Mr. Pink's head. He acts surprised, but removes his hands from the car.]
Mr. Pink: Ah! I have been touching MILLIONS of cars. [He waves his hand subcontinentally.]
Mr. White: I have no doubt.
Mr. Pink [motioning toward inspection sticker on windshield. The sticker expires in October.]: I can give you a new sticker.
[Mr. White stifles a snort.]
Mr. White: No thanks.
[Exit Mr. Pink]
[Mr. White finishes refueling.]
[Exit Mr. White]

[Curtain]

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Comments (5)

Kate:

This wasn't the Sunoco on...what was that road? Right near the rotary? Next to the Mobil station?

Was Mr. Pink's real name "Happy"? (Real name = name on his gas station uniform.)

I actually stopped going to that Sunoco because he kind of creeped me out. Once he told me he'd give me a free tank of gas if I told him 1) my license plate number and 2) the exact (within 50) miles on my odometer. Of course, I didn't know the odometer thing.

Yes! That's exactly the Sunoco station. Concord Avenue. I'm not sure about his real name, though. Mr. White had his eye on Mr. Pink's hands after the first couple of seconds. Maybe I'll write a scene about having Mr. White check, though. Mr. White loves a bargain, and they have the cheapest legit (=not siphoned out of a truck into a juice container) premium gas around.

While Mr. White was waiting for a pump on the correct side one time, the same guy told him that the pump hoses were 14 feet long, so he could use any pump and stretch the hose across the car. Mr. Pink was wrong, of course, and now we see why Mr. Pink thought that would be a good idea.

The free gas thing is goofy. Mr. White would never be so lucky, not being a girl and all.

Mr. Beige was once shushed back into his car by Mr. Pink who insisted on pumping the gas into Mr. Beige's car. Mr. Beige, being already skittish about full-service gas stations (read: New Jersey) obliged the exceedingly cheery Mr. Pink and never returned to Mr. Pink's creepy house of octane.

And this is yet another time that Mr. Silver admires the dedication of Mr. White to Veloce. Mr. Silver is quite happy to let Mr. Brown pump his gas for him, especially when it is less expensive than any other gas within a reasonable distance.

Mr. White is self-actualized enough to realize that Mr. Silver has a much healthier attitude toward what is nothing more than a machine.

And yet...Mr. White completely shares Mr. Beige's wariness of full-service stations, and used to catch flack for bypassing a place called Hondar [no typo] House which had only full-serve, for 15ยข less than anyone else had self-serve. This same skittishness makes Mr. White try hard to pass through New Jersey undigested, without stopping for, um, gas.

(Neither Mr. White nor your humble scribe mean anything in particular by the previous image, and issue a prospective apology to any readers from New Jersey.)

Where's Nice-Guy Eddie when you need him?

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on 2005-10-20 at 00:22.

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