“It’s a fucking rattletrap!”
Yeah, that’s what the asshole said.
Dash finally crossed the line
It was time to squish him dead
Like a fucking bug
He was talking ‘bout my wheels
My steed, well, deux chevaux
Just an itsy bitsy car
But hell, that thing could go
Like shit from a loose fucking goose.
So the challenge had been made
Time and place were fixed and set
There was just one last detail
Get Steve… then win the bet
And had Dash his fucking ass on a platter.
Steve loved these little babies
Kept them polished, purring, fit
With him here riding shotgun
Fucking Dash was in deep shit
But what the hell else was new?
Steve-o greased and primed and oiled
Dropped the hood then pumped some gas
“Now get yourself right in there
Cause we’er gonna kick some ass”.
Dash ass… finest fucking kind of ass to kick
But then, to my surprise,
Old Steve-o gave a shove
And climbed behind the wheel
Pulling on a racing glove…
Just one though… sort of a cheap little fart (I know… he got his parts from Fred’s Junkyard)
He stomped down on the pedal
Made my poor Lemoen peel
The glint there in his eye
Sorta made me feel
Like I was about to puke. “What are you trying to do? Make me sick?”
Two wheels round the corner
Then gunned it, made me cry
“What the hell is wrong with you!”
I thought I was gonna die.
For sure I shit my pants… eww. Won’t that be a wonderful fucking thing for Dash to have to clean.
“You crazy fat-assed nutcase!
What did you think I’d think?
You took my red Citroen
And changed it into pink!
With rolls of fucking duct tape, no less!
So here is our NEW deal
For my sweet Roseanna car
She will live in my garage
And you will now stay far
Away from it. Look at what you did to the suspension? And here… the damned steering wheel is twisted up because of your fat freaking ass. No way, you are NOT doing this to one of my babies again!”
So now I have no wheels
And Dash, yeah, he lost the race
So both our little Lemoens
Are parked at Steve-s place…
With a fucking wire fence around em… razor wire… and two god damned huge Rotties standing guard, like he doesn’t trust us or something. Geesh.