Midget Was Spotless

There I was, bent over with my tight jean shorts hugging my firm cheeks, teasing with a perfect view, a few strings dangling loose. As I squatted down, making sure to give anyone watching a real show, I started wiping down the chrome. Just then, I let out a crescendo of farts that could’ve rattled the windows. Must be all that vegetarian food I’ve been stuffing myself with. Gotta get the Midget ready for my drive north to see an old friend who owes me a favor.

Just another venture capitalist, playing with everyone’s money but his own. I doubt he even has two cents to rub together. His license got revoked for driving his shitty Miata like a maniac down the mountainside late at night. Anyway, he owes me a favor.

The best thing about him is he never did me wrong. Unlike the handful of assholes lately being oddly disrespectful. So, I started training a bit harder, you know, with weapons, then a ballpoint pen, and now just the flick of my thumb.

Ever seen 50 grand in a black duffel? Probably not. So, time to get my ass in gear, visit the slob, and see who else might need a little…persuasion.