The Impala

There was this guy, right?

There was this guy and he had his hand out to meet mine before I even knew the bastard had his eyes on me.
His right hand missed two fingers
So he used his left
which felt like he had snails in his pockets
(clues number one, two and three respectively)

He offered me a "Once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity-thank-you-very-much-and-won't-you-please-step-in-my-office-and-sign-this"
(clue number four:
his office was a 1971 Impala with more rust on it
than there are angels capable of dancing on the head of a pin)

(which is 1,304,396 actually, if you didn't already know)

I'm a skeptical man by nature,
but my interest piqued, indeed
and I had a real shitter of a day yesterday,
(one where it was nonstop
random acts of unkindness, unfairness, unrepentance
of people I thought were in the same human race)
so I bit
paid my small fortune
signed with my own pen
(I didn't even notice the mark was burning as the ink dried)

The salesman smiled wide
He whizzed his fingers and dazzled his eyes
before I knew it the alarm was going off at 6am
and it was yesterday
which was nonstop random acts of unkindness
unfairness
unrepentance
of people I thought were in the same human race
(except instead of going to sleep that night
I was whisked into the present,
which didn't stop, by the by)

The slimy handed Impala guy was gone
and I heard the clouds above laughing at me for missing a day of life

I winced

(my first clue should have been
the little nubs coming out of his forehead)

(or, failing that, the trident in the back seat)

The Impala by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.