Chicken Little Predicts the Future

We started carrying Kymco scooters. They had some left over ones from last year, and were offering them at a huge discount. Mondo ordered 10, and forgot to tell Chicken Little.
When Chicken Little got wind of this, he went into a tizzy and immediately informed Dickie. Dickie wasted no time in drafting a memo that stated all future orders have to be cleared by Chicken Little, or they would result in termination.
It took us eight days to sell all ten, and Kymco still had some left over. Mondo suggested to Chicken Little that we might want to order more.
"I don't feel comfortable ordering 2007 scooters this far into 2008," replied Chicken Little, "We might get stuck with them."
"We sold ten in eight days," replied Mondo.
"I am well aware of that, but I think that's a fluke. I want to hold off on ordering any new units until we see how the economy pans out. The 2009 models will be out in a few more months."
Then gas went to $4.50 a gallon, and Kymco told us they are out of scooters until 2009.


Mondo hired a woman to sell bikes.

She liked motorcycles and had her endorsement. So Mondo figured she'd be easy to train in the art of parting enthusiasts from their money.

Her second day on the job, the woman showed up with both forearms bandaged from her elbow to the wrist. She told Mondo that she couldn't push heavy objects and is on a large and steady dose of vicodin. She seemed a little lost and bewildered.

Dickie says we have to build a case for letting go that doesn't involve the fact that she's stoned out of her mind and can't push a unicycle through the building.

This could be fun.

Can't You Smell that Smell

Cowtits® likes her pants tight. Or she's putting on weight.

Either way, she's got a cameltoe so thick and juicy you can see two feet up her vagina and out the back of her uterus. It's a fragrant one, and the combination of fermenting beaver and enough perfume to conceal a corpse from a cadaver dog is pungent enough to curdle nondairy creamer.

Cowtits® likes to sneak up behind Gollum when he's watching pre-op tranny videos or selling old cars on craigslist and offer him candy, while rocking her mound into the back of his chair and banging the back of his head with her big fake tits.

On the days she's not here, Cowtits® makes little treats for Gollum by putting canned fudge frosting on doublestuffed Oreos. She calls her homemade creation Fuckies, for Fudge Cookies. Cowtits® likes to draw Gollum's attention to the fact that the Oreos are doublestuffed. She says the word doublestuffed a lot, and fuckies too. Cowtits® tells the young guys in parts or sales that one of her daughter's boyfriends gave her homemade treat their catchy little nickname and that her daughter's boyfriends and their buddies used to come over to the house a lot for doublestuffed Fuckies, even after they broke up.

Unless she's watching him, Gollum gives his Fuckies to Giant Robot, who is usually stoned enough to eat sugar with a spoon.

Cowtits® enjoys reminding the rest of us that instead of hiring a janitor, we should take turns cleaning the bathrooms. Once a month, Cowtits® makes a big production out of announcing that she's going to clean the bathrooms, then goes in and dumps the trash.

We ran out of paper towels last week because Cowtits® wouldn't let Jethro buy them anywhere but Costco, and she forgot to leave the card at the dealership.

The Proper Procedure For Ordering Supplies

We ran out of toner cartridges and couldn't print out documents or run credit applications.

Business came to a standstill until Mondo sent Jethro to Staples with the company credit card to buy a couple.

When Cowtits® returned, three days later, she stampeded through the dealership, mooing loudly that we bought our toner cartridges at Staples instead of ordering them online and waiting a week, because they are $9 cheaper online and you don't pay sales tax. She even berated employees who have nothing to do with ordering or using office supplies. Everybody got an earful of the big cow.

And an unfortunate look at her leatherbelly.

And nobody got any candy.

Dickie sent out a memo that anyone who buys office supplies without checking with Cowtits® first will be terminated.

Saving that $9 and sales tax is more important than being able to do business for a few days.

Yes We Have No Bananas

The kid wanted to trade in his KLR650. He bought it new six months ago, and financed the entire amount. His payoff was more than a KLR650 sells for new, and he'd spent a lot of time online, so he knew what blue book was. He wanted a Yamaha FZ6, and wasn't going to be ripped off again. The kid figured out how to play the game.

Big Opie VIII took his credit information, and then tried the one closing technique Big Opie VIII has mastered.

"Would you buy this bike today if I take $1000 off?" he asked.

The Kid would think about it. Meanwhile, what was the best price we would sell him the bike for and how much would we give him for his trade. He wanted us to pay it off.

Mondo went out to look at the trade.

The Kid had painted his KLR650 Dollar General flat black, and much of the plastic and metal had a strange texture.

"I put an aftermarket muffler on it, and the muffler came off and the bike caught on fire while I was riding it, so I painted it," said the Kid, "So I'm willing to take less than high blue book."

Mondo just shook his head and went inside.

According to his credit application, the Kid was a mechanic.

While Mondo ran his credit, the Kid and Big Opie VIII started to haggle.

How about if I pay off your trade, and give you $1500 off the FZ6?" Big Opie VIII spread his ass cheeks faster and wider than a Tijuana hooker.

It felt good.

One bank after another turned the Kid down, mainly because paying for the KLR650 after it caught fire didn't appear to be high on the Kid's list of priorities.

"I"ll give you $4000 for the FZ6," said the Kid. The FZ6 retails for $6899.

"$4,000 plus fees?" asked Big Opie VIII, hopefully.

"I'll consider it," said the Kid, "I saw an '08 on the internet for $6499, and want a better deal because it's a 2007."

"And what about your trade, what do you want for it?" asked Big Opie VIII, taking his time to very seriously write 'Custumer ofers $4000 + fees' on the worksheet.

"I won't take less than $5000 because it's only 6 months old."

"They sell for $5199 new," pointed out Big Opie VIII cleverly.

"It's got an aftermarket exhaust," replied the Kid.

"So can you just okay here your offer of $4000 plus fees and we pay off your bike?"

"What is the interest rate? I know a lot of dealers screw you on the rate."

This inane banter went on for way too long. Mondo felt like listening to them anymore would cause brain damage. And overhearing the company moron pull jumbo discounts out of his ass might give real customers bad ideas.

Mondo went out to the sales floor. He had lost interest in being nice.

"Look," said Mondo to the Kid, "This is not a third world bazaar and we're not haggling over the price of bananas. Your credit is so bad, you can't finance extra cheese on a pizza. Go waste someone else's time."

"How close to my price will you go?" asked the Kid.

"Not very," said Mondo.

"How much will you give me for my KLR in trade?"

"You set it on fire," Mondo turned and walked away, "We don't want it. Thanks for stopping by."
The Kid left in a hurry. He couldn't believe the surefire negotiating technique some of the car salesmen at work told him to use didn't work.

"Why did you blow him out of here?" asked Big Opie VIII, "We almost had a deal."

"Better check your meds," Mondo said, "They are causing you to disconnect from reality."

Mondo went back to the computer. The last lender had turned the Kid down. He was destined to spend the time left before the repo man came riding his blackened KLR from dealership to dealership, looking for a $4000 FZ6.

Dickie Downs the Lojack Lady

Into the dealership walks a saleslady. Flashy car, expensive clothes, she hits up each of the salespeople looking for the Big Douche himself. Finally she gets to talk to Dickie. Turns out she's from Lojack (you might have heard of them, ya know, the people who figured out a really really good and proven way to fight vehicle theft).

Now begins about a week of negotiations as she tries to get Dickie's dealership on board with this good and proven product. Unfortunately for her, her company, Dickie's company and anyone stupid enough to buy a vehicle there, she has to go through Dickie and Chicken Little first.

To put Lojack on a vehicle, the mechanic has to be specially trained and bonded, since he will be the only person to know where the special transponder is hidden. Logic (shh, he might hear you) dictates that this is the second best way to do it, followed only by having NO ONE know where the transponders are placed. His section of the shop must be blocked from view of the other mechanics etc. Sounds good, right? Lol.

Dickie decides that he will not allow them into HIS (by gawd) shop unless he also knows where the transponders are placed, thereby making himself liable for any unrecovered vehicles and doubling the chance that the information would not stay where it belongs. This is only a minor blow to saleslady as every other dealership in a 50 mile radius gets on board immediately.

Now this story is short and is shy on detail but I'm going to leave you with one little gem. Chicken Little, in his finite wisdom and infinite ass kissing chooses to soften the blow to a disappointed sales staff by saying "They're useless anyway, anyone can steal a Lojacked vehicle as long as they cover it with a lead blanket".

Gollum goes American Chopper Part Deux

The day after the Sucker bought his bike, Big Opie VIII and Comic Book Guy are outside, enjoying the sunlight and wondering aloud why every other dealer in the area gets more traffic than Saint Manure Motorsports (brains aren't a requisite to be hired here) when they hear an awful commotion coming up the street. It sounds like a moving traffic accident/jam. Horns honking, screeching brakes and somewhere, a motorcycle running like shit.

A few moments later they are amazed to see that Yamaha come back, with Sucker at the helm. He's still stalling every few yards and the bike sounds like an angry moped. Behind him is a long line of cars, honking and trying to get around him and almost hitting each other in their haste to get where they are going.

Sucker finally makes it into the parking lot, stalls the bike a final time beside Big Opie VIII and Comic Book Guy, pulls off his helmet and starts yelling about how terribly the bike is running. Now Big Opie VIII and CBG somehow manage to control their laughter and point Sucker around back to service. CBG decides to put out his cigarette (a rarity) and head around to see what's up. Turns out the bike is only running on 3 of 4 cylinders, and the used bikes are sold as is, with no warranty. He's been stopped by cops twice and told he has no brake or tail light.

The Whiner is hysterical by the time CBG gets back to Service. This bike would have been a gold mine for his department because it needs an easy 3k worth of work to make it even remotely safe to ride, let alone sell, but the deed was done on his day off. He starts whining at Comic Book Guy about the unconnected taillights but it's not Comic Book Guy's sale, so he just smiles and leaves in a cloud of Marlboro smoke after mentioning that Gollum was the one who ziptied the tail section off an old Honda to the back of the bike and couldn't hook up the lights.

and the bike is running on all four cylinders. Gollum is hiding from Sucker in Chicken Little's office, CBG and Big Opie VIII are once again outside enjoying the sunshine. Sucker mounts up, stalls twice on the way out of the parking lot, then hits the street. At which point the lack of rear end lighting comes into play. As CBG digs into his pack for another smoke he hears a horrendous crash and looks up in time to see Sucker flying through the air. He turns around to see Gollum looking out through a window with a small smile on his face. "If he lives through that, I can sell him a new bike."

Where Parts Guys Come From

Gollum has a friend who lives at home. His friend has never had a job in his life, but he thinks motorcycles are cool and plays in a band. The Rocker is 32.

Gollum convinced the Douchebag that the Rocker would make a great salesperson. He also convinced the Rocker that it might be time to get some experience in the workplace. Gollum planned on helping the Rocker and helping himself to half the Rocker's commissions. Chicken Little figured he could help himself to the other half.

Even by Saint Manure standards, the Rocker wasn't very good at selling anything. He had trouble focusing on the big picture, which is selling and not sharing every detail about your band and every single ride you've ever taken in your life with the people who come in because they have an interest in buying a motorcycle. He also took frequent breaks when his mother brought him lunch or dinner, or merely wanted to come in and see that it wasn't a dream, the Rocker really had a job.

One morning, the Rocker was pushing out the used bikes when he dropped one and caused four to fall over. He broke a few brake levers and put big gashes in the plastic on a couple of the new KTMs. The Rocker righted the bikes and finished pushing them out, without disclosing what had happened.

Chicken Little noticed right away that there was something askew. He emailed the Douchebag, and they were hot on the case. The Douchebag went back through all his tapes and saw the Rocker knock the bikes over.

The next morning, the Douchebag was waiting for Mondo. He'd slept badly in his trailer behind the dealership, trying to figure out what to do about the Rocker.

"He's a nice guy but he can't sell motorcycles," said Mondo, "Not much good at pushing them out either."

When the Rocker came into the dealership, the Douchebag asked him to join them in Mondo's office.

The Rocker looked at Mondo. Mondo looked at the Rocker. The Douchebag looked like he needed a haircut and a bath.

"Mondo doesn't think you are doing very well in sales. Tell him why you're firing him," said the Douchebag.

Mondo started to pay attention. He hadn't mentioned firing the Rocker.

"You're just not selling very well," said Mondo, guessing that this was the reason the Douchebag had decided Mondo was going to use to fire the Rocker.

"And you let a bunch of bikes fall down yesterday," said the Douchebag, "and didn't tell Chicken Little. This is unacceptable."

"Am I fired?" asked the Rocker.

"We decided to move you to Parts," said the Douchebag, "Mondo doesn't want you in sales anymore."

"Okay," said the Rocker.

Dickie sent out a memo that anyone who knocks over a bike will be terminated.

Gollum goes American Chopper

Gollum is in charge of used bikes, i.e. purchasing crap for nothing and selling it for a little bit more than nothing to unwary customers. His biggest claim to fame being his "roach" of a cruiser, "I put the grinder marks on the pipe myself!" and the two bikes on the lot, purchased for $200 (total) and put back on sale for about $1500 (apiece) never mind the rust pitting, the old, unsafe tires and the fact that they'll probably grenade before they get off the lot.

So one day (so the story goes) Gollum lands on a gold mine. A ten year old Yamaha sportbike, with a wonderful (for a six year old) paint job, almost frozen steering head bearings and bad suspension. Of course he buys it and it goes in back for service to try and make it saleable. But Gollum knows that by the time the mechanics make it safe to drive, all the profit will be gone. So he calls a buddy who has been scraping change for a year to buy his first bike (can you say SUCKER?). His buddy, all unawares, thinks Gollum is doing him a favor.

Now there's only one hitch in the ointment (yeah I know). This fly in the pudding so to speak is that Chicken Little just made a new "rule". Now you have to understand, Chicken Little's main job at this dealership is to keep it an ongoing tax shelter for all of Cowtits®' gambling losses, i.e. it's his job to make sure they lose money (and figure prominently in Dickie's dreams). This newest rule is that no bike can be sold with aftermarket stuff on it. So when they purchase a used bike, they have to put stock blinkers etc. on them. Somehow they manage to leave the aftermarket pipes and whatnot on, but the blinkers are a big deal to him. Ya know, it's ok to do some illegal things, but not others depending on the day of the week, the position of the moon and whether Chicken Little is having a bad hair day or not.

So Gollum heads in back to get the bike ready for his unwitting friend. The front goes just fine, he slaps on a couple of stock type blinkers and then heads for the back of the bike. Oh my, no blinkers at all. Three grinder wheels, four blinkers and two bandaids later, he has "fabricated" a new rear fender, complete with blinkers and taillight, 'cuz that's what makes this bike unsafe, not the bad bearings in the steering head, the bald tires, leaking fork seals or bad rear shock.

The next day, Gollum and Comic Book Guy are outside with Gollum's friend (Comic Book Guy spends most of his time outside, trying to keep enough nicotine in his system so that he can function).
The Sucker (friend) is beside himself with joy, he can finally afford a sportbike. Now maybe he can lose his virginity (at 30 it was starting to worry him that he hadn't yet). His bedazzled senses skim over all the glaring defects in the bike, the bad paint, the scraped and broken levers and pegs....all of it. He doesn't even care that he doesn't know how to ride or doesn't even have a license (a fact ignored by Gollum as he hands over the keys).

So Gollum and Comic Book Guy watch Sucker stall it three times in the parking lot, and twice on the street, their arms become tired from waving because it takes Sucker about 20 minutes to get out of sight.

Gollums leans into the cloud of smoke surrounding CBG and says "That's some good fabrication work man, but I sort of feel like I should have hooked up the taillight and blinker wires".

Stay tuned, Sucker comes back the next day.

Moving On Up

Cowtits® and the Douchebag used to bless us with their presence a couple of times a week. The rest of the time, the Douchebag would stare drunkenly at his security monitors all day long and email Chicken Little with advice as to how to further demoralize the staff. Occasionally Dickie would personally call an employee and expound on such topics as how to close doors, sweep floors, or clean off desks.

Dickie sees all.

When Cowtits® and the Douchebag came to town, they would stay at nice hotels and pamper themselves with fine meals.

Cowtits® always brought back leftovers for Gollum and Chunks.

Suddenly, that's changed.

Dickie and Cowtits® are living in a motorhome behind the dealership and eating the hotdogs they bought and froze for Bike Nite. He's looking a little ragged every morning. I'm not sure if it's the after effects of too much drink or lack of sleep while watching his life slowly slip into the shit.

Big Opie VIII got online and found out Dickie's really nice house is in foreclosure.

Maybe that's why we had the Christmas party at BW3 this year instead of their McMansion on the hill.

Opie Tries to Score

Big Opie VIII came to Saint Manure from the bad dealership on the rough side of the tracks. He was let go for lack of sales. In other words, Big Opie VIII can't close a door. Maybe it's because he's always whacked out on prescription meds.

When we hired him, Big Opie VIII told the Douchebag that he couldn't pass a drug test because he is on doctor's orders to remain under a self induced coma.

The Douchebag demanded that Big Opie VIII tell him what the doctor prescribed. Though illegal to make this demand, the Douchebag made Big Opie VIII's employment contingent on this disclosure.

Once he got here, Big Opie VIII stood in front of the glass doors, responding occasionally to light and movement of big objects on the street outside. He has sold little.

Comic Book Guy was trying to sell an exceptionally attractive woman her first motorcycle. Big Opie VIII started to talk to her while Comic Book Guy was in the sales office trying to put a deal together on a Honda cruiser.

"I'm so excited about learning to ride," she said.

"I've helped a lot of new riders," replied Big Opie VIII, "You should start out on a sport bike like my Yamaha R1. It was just dynoed and it puts out 162.93 horsepower. I used to be a racer until I hurt my back in a high side at Daytona."

"I'm going to take the course and my friend is going to teach me too,"

"I hope your friend is as good an instructor as I am, because I've had six friends killed on motorcycles in the last few years. Maybe you should go for a ride on the back of my bike first. I used to be racer before I hurt my back."

Big Opie VIII stuck another morphine lollipop in his mouth and watched the woman leave. He was sure she'd be back to see him. They'd talked.

"Where'd my customer go?" asked Comic Book Guy, returning with an approval from the finance company.

"She said she had to go to work," said Big Opie VIII, "I'm going to fuck her when she comes back. She's hot."

Then Big Opie VIII clocked out and went home for a two hour nap and intravenous drip of narcotics.

It's Always Fun Until Somebody Takes Out a Waverunner

The weather has been downright freaky lately. Freakier than the thoughts that pass through Chicken Little's mind when he creeps past schoolyards in his blacked out van. A storm left the parking lot in front of Saint Manure covered with a layer of hail.
Giant Robot decided this would be a good surface to practice his drift racing skills.
He loaded himself up with medical marijuana, stuck his favorite song from "The Fast and the Furious 2" on his MP3 player, and started drifting back and forth across the parking lot, sliding on the ice.
Onto the ever expanding list of things Giant Robot does not do well can be added Drift Racing.
Somehow, the car got away from him and hit the one waverunner we wheel out on a stand every day. The Waverunner fell over and broke, to put it mildly, and Giant Robot hid his car in the Supermarket parking lot next to Saint Manure and then hid back in Shipping and Receiving.
Though everyone in Sales and Parts saw it happen, nobody thought to inform Chicken Little, nor to identify the culprit.
When Chicken Little saw the damaged Waverunner on it's side leaking oil onto the ice, he ran into his office, locked the door, and called Dickie the Douchebag.
All Dickie caught on tape was was the Waverunner falling into the frame and bouncing a couple times on the parking lot.
Chicken Little asked the employees one by one if they'd seen anything.
"There were two n... black guys in the parking lot a while ago," said Big Opie, sucking on a morphine lollipop, "They do things like this a lot. I'll bet it was cool to watch."

Dickie sent out a memo that parking the waverunner where his video cameras can't watch it is grounds for termination.


The Whiner sent Jethro out to pick up a customer's bike. The customer wrecked and wants us to fix it.

The bike looked like it slid about 200 feet down the road on both sides then catapulted ten feet in the air and came down on it's nose.

When he got there, Jethro jumped on the bike, and tried to push it up into the truck. The steering was locked, so the bike turned left and then fell over.

Now the customer is pointing out the damage Jethro did and saying we have to replace all the plastic on the right side of the bike and buy him a new exhaust, or give him $4,000.

Later this afternoon, Dickie the Douchebag sent out a rambling drunken memo from home to all the employees that riding a customer's motorcycle with the steering locked is grounds for termination. Going forward, before Jethro loads a customer's motorcycle in our truck, he has to take eleven different pictures of it first. The angles are clearly laid out in the memo.

Giant Robot

Giant Robot has a medical marijuana license and wants to sell motorcycles. The combination of backroom breaks for medical purposes and a vocabulary derived from watching too many hip hop videos make it hard for him to understand and be understood. He does connect well with stoned wiggers.
Chicken Little told Giant Robot that he, Chicken Little, will help Giant Robot learn to sell motorcycles. All Giant Robot has to do is have his fingerprints taken and get his salesperson's license.
Giant Robot puts it off and puts it off. Meanwhile, Chicken Little is extremely pleased to help Giant Robot sell bikes. It's not that much work. It's really nothing. There are an awful lot of stoned wiggers in Saint Manure, and Giant Robot's closing technique seems to involve taking them out to see his bike and all the crap he's bolted on it, and then spend half an hour out by the dumpster getting stoned.
Giant Robot is happy selling bikes.
Then payday rolls around, and Chicken Little realizes Giant Robot is not too stoned to figure out that Chicken Little has been stealing half his commissions.

Another Money Saving Idea From Cowtits

At the start of this month, CowTits® sent out a memo that we are to save all the empty toilet tissue rolls. There is a bag for them in the breakroom, and she has put Jethro in charge of making sure it is used.

CowTits® says the dealership is using too much toilet paper.

This morning, CowTits® brought down a contraption and set it on one of the salesdesks.

It is a device she found on the internet that allows you to take a roll of two ply toilet paper, turn a crank and separate it into two rolls of single ply.

So Jethro and Shakes the salesman spent the morning separating a case of toilet paper into two.

Bike Nite

We have a bike night now. Instead of holding it at the big bar next door to Saint Manure, we hold it in our parking lot. Occasionally a guy does wheelies up and down the side parking lot. It's like a stunt show, but free.

Dickie the Douchebag decided he doesn't want to hold Bike Night in a place where people want to go and have fun over a couple beers, so we lure them in with free hotdogs and water.

Mondo says that's what they feed prisoners in South America.

CowTits® put up a sign that says you can have a free hotdog if you buy something.

Finanncial Genius

Chicken Little knows Finance Managers make a lot of money. More than mechanics. So he told the Douchebag that he wants to be the Finance Manager.

Mondo does most of what a Finance Manager does at the dealership, and he was surprised that we don't pull credit reports when we are trying to get people financed.

He told Chicken Little that one of the reasons you need to pull a credit report is so you can argue with the lender that your customer deserves a loan.

"What makes you think you're a credit expert?" asked Chicken Little.

"Don't you call the lender back and try to get an approval?" asked Mondo.

"Yes, and they tell me what's in the credit report. I think they know better than you."

So Dickie made Chicken Little the Finance Manager. Chicken Little promptly put policies in place that violate several Federal and State Statutes.

Dreaming Of a White Chicken

The Douchebag dreams about Chicken Little.

"I had a dream about you last night", he said to the bandy legged little fellow, "You were in a motorcycle race, and were in first place. The announcer said you were in the lead, and I was yelling for you to win, but you couldn't hear me."

Chicken Little flicked his hair back and put it into a ponytail.


The Monday after we fired the Little Criminal, there was a mad rush of Mexicans clammoring through the doors claiming the Little Criminal had offered them free helmets, boots, goggles and jackets. Many of them claimed to have no loan or contract papers, a couple of brothers said the Little Criminal offered them free winches, and one miserable soul told the Douchebag that he had made his last two payments directly to the Little Criminal and didn't understand why Honda is threatening to repossess his ATVs.

Dickie is concerned, because if word gets out that the Little Criminal was stealing from customers, that might hurt Saint Manure's already piss poor reputation. On the other hand, he remembers hearing the Little Criminal talking Mexican with some of the customers, and can't tell what they were saying, so he is suspicious that the Little Criminal is calling his customers and setting them up to go in and ask for free stuff.

He is.

The Little Criminal also called Comrade Dumbass's stupid girlfriend's father and explained that because Dickie the Douchebag knew he was selling a motorcycle to the Stupid Girlfriend even though she only had a state ID card, that the purchase was a Straw Purchase, and illegal and against the policy of the lender. So in addition to all the free gear we are giving away and restitution we are making for the payments the Little Criminal collected, we may be eating a fairly fucked up Suzuki GSXR600.

What if Giant Robot finds out that instead of being buried in the R6 he wants to get rid of, his girlfriend can just call the lender and tell them that it was also a straw purchase? Until Mondo pointed out to Dickie that straw purchases of motor vehicles are illegal, the Douchebag was happy to ruin young girl's credit so their loser boyfriends could have sportbikes.

The Switch

Mondo got a call from a nice guy who bought his kids an ATV for Christmas.

"I think the Little Criminal switched papers on me," said the customer, "Is that why he doesn't work there anymore?"

"what do you mean?"

"I bought this quad for my kids for Christmas for $2999, and it included the free extended warranty and tires, and when I got the bill, it was for $7843."

"There is freight and prep, and a doc fee, and taxes."

"I don't think it's that much. That's almost double. There was a problem with my paperwork, so the Little Criminal had me meet him in the parking lot of a Taco Bell to re-sign the contract. I think he switched it then."

"Do you have the original contract?"

"It's somewhere in my garage."

"You should find it."

" I'll look for it, but the bill is due now, and I don't want to pay $7843 for a $2999 ATV. What should I do?"

"Call back and ask to speak to the Douchebag. He's handling all these calls."

Free Candy

Chicken Little is more than a little creepy. He lives in a van beside the dealership, and eats all his meals in the van. It's a faded Ford Windstar with black tinted windows. Chicken Little buys all his food and clothes at the 99 cent store. He came out of retirement to help his friend out, and likes new salespeople because he can take half their commissions until they figure out what he's doing. By then he has made them so miserable, they quit.The sales department at Saint Manure Motorsports has more than a 400% turnover rate. The Douchebag complains because we can't find people who will both do as he wants them to do, and sell a lot of motorcycles.

Adios, Little Criminal

While not claiming cowardice, the Douchebag prepared a termination letter for the Little Criminal and handed it to Mondo, then cowered in his office.

Mondo paged the Little Criminal to his office repeatedly.

There was no answer.


Having had enough of the suspense, and realizing that he was under close scrutiny by Dickie and Cowtits in the office upstairs, Mondo went out and found the Little Criminal hiding behind a tree in the parking lot, offering a woman who came in to look at scooters a free helmet and riding lessons.
-It's like that?, asked the Little Criminal, looking over the termination letter full of made up charges that would annoy your menopausal aunt.
-Fraid so, said Mondo, "The Douchebag's been building a case for quite a while."
There was a pause.
-and he wants your shirt back, said Mondo.
The Little Criminal took his final check and the termination letter and went out to the parking to make a few phone calls, talk to his co-conspirators still at Saint Manure, and remove his shirt.Lettle did we know that these was just the beginning. There was much the Little Criminal did that needed to be unravelled.