Elevating Overman. Bruce Ferber
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Название: Elevating Overman
Автор: Bruce Ferber
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Юмористическая проза
isbn: 9781940207926
isbn:
A young couple walks in to purchase a car they clearly can’t afford. The Garrisons have decent enough credit but should be using it toward something like a Ford Focus rather than a $50,000 automobile. Big fucking deal. Overman has done this dance a thousand times. Suck them in with zero down, put them into an upside-down monthly payment that gets higher as they “advance in their careers and have more disposable income.” Nine times out of ten the buyer can’t afford to keep up with the increases and winds up selling the car back at a loss or having it taken from him by the bank.
Even though he is far from a superhero, Overman feels obliged to consider: Would Spiderman engage in such deplorable activity if he worked at Steinbaum? Selling this car to these people would be tantamount to Batman taking candy from a baby while he’s fucking the baby’s mother. Overman is not desperate to close this deal. The deals would come when they were the right ones.
“Mr. and Mrs. Garrison, I really don’t think it makes sense for you to buy a car from us,” Overman says, within earshot of an incredulous Hal Steinbaum.
The Garrisons are naturally surprised. They thank him for his forthrightness and he is pleased. Overman then decides to amble over to say “hi” to Maricela, who looks exceptionally fetching this morning.
“Hey, how’s everything going?” he smiles. It comes out naturally now. Sincere, completely unforced, they are friends and words flow as they are meant to.
“I’m good. It’s nice to see you,” she smiles.
“You and Rodrigo seem to have come to an understanding.”
“I guess. He’s a shithead but I’m working on him.”
“People can change,” Overman assures her, now having experienced the concept firsthand.
“Want anything from the Coffee Bean?” he asks. “I was thinking of driving over.”
“A vanilla ice-blended sounds great.”
“You got it,” Overman winks, starting for the door.
“Ira.”
He turns around.
She whispers. “I’m glad we got to make love.”
“Me, too. You’re incredible.”
Her whisper becomes even softer.
“There’s so much more I’d like to do to you.”
“Oh Jesus,” he moans, suddenly interrupted by a noxious whine that could only belong to Hal Steinbaum.
“Overman, get in my office.”
“I was about to go to Coffee Bean. You want anything?”
“I want to rip you a new sphincter. You let those laydowns walk.”
“They couldn’t afford that car.”
“Get in there,” Steinbaum points, as if scolding a small child.
“I’m going to Coffee Bean. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
“You walk out that door, you won’t be coming back, Overman.”
The gauntlet had been thrown down. If he had been faced with the identical scenario last month, he would have blown off the Coffee Bean run and followed Steinbaum back to the office with his tail between his legs. Not so in the current configuration of things. Now he asks himself: If the Incredible Hulk wanted an ice-blended, would he bag it in favor of being reprimanded by a moron? It seemed unlikely.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Overman says, blithely sauntering out the door.
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