A Conversation About a Trolley

“Hi…I was told you buy vehicles here to sell for parts?”

“Maybe. What you got?”

“Here she is, right here.”

“Is that a trolley?”  

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to sell me a trolley for parts?”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you get a trolley from?”

“It’s my trolley. I’ve had it for ages.”

“Hop on, hop off to discover wild, wonderful Seaworld Adventure Park!”

“What?”

“That’s what the trolley says. On the side of it.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s its name.”

“Its name?”

“Sure.”

“That’s a long name.”

“I wanted to distinguish it from other trolleys.”

“Did you steal this trolley?”

“What?! No. I wouldn’t steal a trolley. For one thing, it’s too large.”

“So, you didn’t steal it?”

“No.”

“It’s your trolley?”

“Yes.”

“You drove this trolley to work?”

“Yes.”

“To the grocery store?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t think you drove it anywhere except away from Seaworld.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“I think this is a hot trolley.”

“It is not!”

“Do you have papers for it?”

“Look, what is all this? I have a trolley, see, a trolley I don’t need anymore. I asked an acquaintance what to do about it, and he said you’re the guy for that. He said you’re a real pro, no questions asked. So what’s with the third degree?”

“Now, wait, wait, wait one minute. I deal in cars. Bikes. The odd boat here and there. But I don’t want to get mixed up in any trolley business. Those things are registered.”

“Come on, this is a nice trolley here!”

“Yeah, and someone’ll be looking for that trolley. Leave me out of it.”

“Well, that’s just great. What am I supposed to do with it?”

“If I were you, I’d drive it into a lake. You’re in some deep shit, son.”

“Really? Oh God, I didn’t know! I’ve never really done this before.”

“I can tell. Any pro can tell you, the A-number-one rule of this trade is, ‘Never touch trolleys!'”

“Oh, man. Oh, man oh man oh man. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Calm down, son.”

“I never should have touched this trolley! But it was just sitting there, all shiny red with its sparkling brass hubcaps, and its whistle, and the rubber Shamu on the roof. And no one was watching it. And the keys were in the ignition. And I don’t know – something in me just snapped. I got in that trolley, and I floored it — I sped across Seaworld at 55 mph, through the gates, onto the interstate, and I never looked back!”

“It happens to us all. Except for the trolley part.”

“I’m such an idiot. What am I gonna do now?”

“Well, I might be able to help you.”

“Really? How?”

“Tell you what, you seem like a nice kid. I’ll take this trolley off your hands, and I’ll make it disappear.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Just from now on, stay away from trolleys.”

“I will! …Um, the only thing is…”

“What?”

“Well, I kind of drove the trolley out here. Can you give me a lift back to my car?”

“Is your car at Seaworld?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Bits welcome:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s