"…mumblemumb—goddamn smart car!" Tim swerved their geriatric truck around the tiny slow-moving eco-friendly hybrid car with the rainbow peace sign in the back window and the "Coexist" bumper sticker, tossing in a free middle finger on the way past: "Speed it the mumblemumble up, Moonbeam Starchild!"

"Fuck! This's why I shouldn't let you drive, bro." Brian snarled, gripping the duct-taped passenger side armrest, unconsciously working non-existent floor pedals. Tim eased up, and with a loud grinding of ancient gears, downshifted to the legal speed limit (more or less), richbich Boomer hippie-mobile engulfed in a long black fart of ecologically hostile exhaust in their lumbering wake.

Brian relaxed, more or less, snow, leaky sandbags, loose beer cans, and "borrowed" power tools shifting loudly backwards in the rusted-out truck bed as their rolling traffic violation struggled smoking up the exit ramp leading to "Welcome to Augua Clara Acres, Eco-Friendly Living at its Finest".

ScrapeScrapeScrape – CLANG-ANG-ANG-ANG!

"Sonova… mumblemumble - BITCH!"

Temporarily forgetting his chronic road rage, Tim slowed down to avoid bottoming out a second time on the speed bumps placed every ten feet just to keep dirty outsiders like him and the city sanitation engineers that came in every Tuesday, in their place.

Brian looked in the cracked side rearview mirror, making sure the back axel hadn't parted company with them like the engine had last summer.

Only, he couldn't, as the right side rearview mirror now lay forlornly in the middle of the road. That was the last time he paid that skinny Mexican kid, Narancia, Nunzio, whatever his name was, to weld something back onto his and Tim's beloved behemoth.

(Not that Brian intended to PAY the skinny little beaner… even if he worked cheap— "Sonofa BITCH, slow DOWN Tim!" Brian swore, all thoughts of stiffing Narancia knocked clean out of his head as Tim violently hit the next sleeping cop in the sequence, sending the cab and them jolting sideways.

Man, for that alone Augua Clara sucked!

Still, the dumbasses who owned the biggest lot in the area's newest McMansion development were a steady source of income, thanks to their constantly hiring Tu Dudz to demolish the whatever-it-was that had just been built so that the Wolf family could rebuild it bigger better, and more pretentious than ever at triple the previous cost – even if it meant rearranging furniture first.

Moving heavy furniture, normally a decent side gig, was a fuckin' pain in the ass with these people: bitchy Mrs. Madden and her pussy-whipped little husband always tried to swindle them out of a day's pay, for say, accidentally-on-purpose dropping a very large, VERY expensive eco-friendly refrigerator off their back deck and onto the recently installed geothermal heating unit after the lady of the house complained about them leaving big ruts in her freshly sodded not-exactly eco-friendly front lawn.

Fair was fair.

Then there was their equally bitchy daughter. What was her name? Britney… uh, Heather? Chanel? Gethsemene? Oh, yeah, Becca. BITCHY Becca, shi— "Huh? You say somethin', asshole?"

"Mumblemumble Schmidt mumble asshole cop brought a tag-along - his...mumblemumblemumbleMUMBLE niece?" Tim gestured up ahead of them, adding, "MumbleSNARLmumble ain't no goddam BABYSITTER!"

"Well, if it's that chick, th'one he's always bitchin' 'bout…. Hawwwwwwkkkkkkkk-ptoooooooo- SPLATTTT! Brian gleefully launched a long green Jack Daniels reekihng loogie out the rolled down passenger side window onto the neatly snow-shoveled front half-circle driveway, barely missing the yapping, obese pug now hurling canine abuse at them, adding after draining his snot reservoir directly onto the smush-faced dog, "Keep'a eye on her. She starts shit, asshole?" Remembering how fucking BIG Schmidt the cop was and how protective he was of the little bitch no matter how mad she made him, Brian added with a heartfelt, "We're fucked!"