CHAPTER THREE
Bee-Otch
"You really think I'd get you guys a Porche? For your first car?" Ron was still laughing.
"I don't wanna talk to you for the rest of this thing." Sam stated.
"Ditto." Samantha muttered, glancing out of the corner of her eyes at the yellow car that had just followed them into the dealership. She couldn't really see who was driving it, but it didn't matter.
It was an old car, but it wasn't half as bad as the rest of the cars that were in this place.
This was bad.
Samantha liked shiny.
And none of these cars fit that description.
Sam and Samantha got out of their dad's car in disbelief, and looked around at the old cars in the dealership their dad had driven them to.
This had to be some kind of a cruel joke.
"Let me explain something to you," Sam said to Ron, as Samantha stood around and wished she could just disappear. "You ever seen Forty Year Old Virgin?"
"Yeah." Ron nodded.
"Okay, that - that's what this is," Sam said, indicating to one particular car. Then he motioned to the one next to it. "And this is 'fifty year old virgin'."
"No sacrifice..." Ron began to remind Sam and Samantha.
"Yeah, yeah, no victory, the old Witwicky motto." Sam finished.
"We know Dad, we know." Samantha added.
"Gentlemen," The black man running the car dealership greeted them. "And lady," He added. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, my kids here," Ron put a hand on their backs. "Looking to buy their first car."
"You come to see me?" The dealer pointed to himelf.
"We had to." The twins said in unison.
"That makes us practically family. Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B." The black man said.
"Sam." The twins introduced themselves, and shook Bobby's hand.
Bobby led them towards the car park. "Your first enchilada of freedom," He explained. "Awaits underneath one of these hoods. Let me tell you something, kids. A driver don't pick the car. The car'll pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine."
Samantha coughed.
"And woman and machine." Bobby added, and Samantha smiled.
They had reached the cars by then, and Samantha noticed the yellow car she had seen before, minus its driver.
Sam noticed it at the same time, and ran his hand over the hood. "This ain't bad." He said.
The car in question was an old yellow Camaro with black racing stripes.
"What, you mean despite its lack of shininess?" Samantha muttered, and her brother gave her a Look. "Okay, okay," She said, touching the black stripe closest to her. "It does have a certain charm to it...kind of sporty-looking...it's got racing stripes." She added.
"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "It got racing...yeah, what's this? What the heck is this?" As he babbled on about not knowing where the car had come from, the twins checked out the car.
Sam sat in the driver's seat, and touched the steering wheel. "Feels good." He said.
"Lemme try." Samantha said, and so they switched placed. "Cute." She said, commenting on the air-freshner hanging from the rear-view mirror. It was shaped like a bee, and had bee-otch written on it. And fitting. She added silently.
Samantha ran a hand over the front of the steering wheel, and could swear she felt the car shudder. A strange silver metal symbol was on the steering wheel. "Hey, bro, what do you make of this?" She asked, pointing to it.
Sam didn't know.
"How much?" Ron asked, he could see that the twins were falling in love with the car - sort of.
"Well," Bobby said, seeming to sum it all up. "Considering the semi-classic nature of the ve-hicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job..."
"Wait," Samantha, still sitting in the driver's seat with her hands on the wheel. "The paint's faded." And some. She thought. Despite everything, she couldn't get past the car's lack of shineness.
Bobby leaned in the other window. "Yeah, but it's custom."
He glanced up when Sam asked: "It's custom faded?"
Bobby said he didn't expect the twins to understand, seeing as it was their first car and all, and then looked up at Ron. "Five grand." He said.
Ron shook his head. "No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry."
Bobby said to Samantha: "Kid, come on, get out of hte car."
"No, no, no - you said cars pick their drivers." Samantha was quite stubborn. Sam was too, which was why he was nodding in agreement. He also knew that his sister would be impossible to live with if she didn't get her way!
"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father." Bobby said. "Out the car."
Sam opened the door for his sister. Grumbling something about false-advertising, she got out of the car.
"There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there." Ron said.
"I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes." Sam told him.
Samantha sighed angrily. "I want this car." She said stubbornly.
"It's too expensive." Ron informed her.
"Then Sam will stop eating so much food, won't you?" Samantha argued, as the Sam in question looked at her quickly.
"No." Ron said.
"But Daddy..." Samantha whined.
The radio in the yellow Camaro suddenly came to life all by itself, and began playing: "Ooh, I want you I dunno if I need you but, ooh I'm dying to find out..."
"What the hell..?" Samantha muttered, closing the door behind her.
As she did that, and as Bobby informed them about the classic engine of the VW right next to the Camaro, the Camaro's passenger-side door swung open and hit the VW, causing it to move sideways into something, which dented its door.
"No problem, I can just get a sledge-hammer and bang it right out!" Bobby said with fake cheerfullness.
The Camaro's radio tuned itself again and said: "...greater than man..." Before something happened and, the next thing they knew, every other car's window had shattered, and the alarms began going off.
Bobby stood in the middle of the car park, looking terrified. To Ron, he said: "Four thousand!"
Sam and Samantha exchanged a startled glance, and then they smiled.