The Hood Ornament

"It's daily work, daily pay."

I stared at him, not knowing what to make of the offer.

"Do you want the job or not?"

"I think so," I replied. I needed the money, and it sounded pretty easy. My voice sounded high-pitched and scratchy.  I wondered if I might be getting sick.  "I just don't get the point of it."

He shook his head at me. I loathed everything about him, his well worn and faded J.C. Penney’s wardrobe, the shine of his nearly-bald pate, the smell of his cheap cologne. 

“It's very simple-- you will be paid to sit on the hood of a car. You are to remain still, not talk to anyone or look at anyone. Basically, you'll be a life-size hood ornament. What's not to understand?"

I noticed the coffee stains on his shirt.  Disgusting.  He looked as though he hadn’t showered for days.  That cologne was only doing a fair job covering up his stink.  His breath had no such cover.  Liver and onions, I thought.  Probably from two days ago. 

"Will they drive the car with me on top of it?  What are they looking for, a stuntman?”

"Are you kidding? That Volvo doesn't even have an engine. You will be getting paid to sit on your ass all day and do exactly nothing. If you don't want the job, just say so. I will give it to the next fellow."

"Why me, though?"  I tried to stare right through him, my eyes like lasers.  I failed miserably.

"My thoughts exactly." He frowned in disgust. "Last chance- yea or nay?"

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As I approached the broken down Volvo, the old man started shouting at me.

"You there! Step lively now! You are late!"  His shrill voice reverberated in my eardrums.

The Volvo was yellow, but it was a combination of flaked paint and rust that gave the car this color, not the factory.  Weeds grew up all around the sides.  I noticed that two of the wheels were missing, and had been replaced by concrete blocks.  Of the two remaining tires, one of them was flat.  What had I gotten myself into?

"I came straight from the placement office."  I tried to smile at my new employer, but it didn’t take.

"You young people are all the same," he said balefully, "Always an excuse!"

I noticed his hands were stained the same yellow as the Volvo, I assumed through years of smoking.  The corners of his mouth were the same dirty color, with a little dried spittle in the left corner of his rueful grin.  The man was clearly mad, but I needed his money.  I needed that cash in the worst way.

"I'm very sorry, sir," I said meekly. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Are you ready for me to start?"

"Sit away," he commanded. I climbed on top of the hood.  I felt the metal give just slightly as I reached my perch.  The hood was cold and creaky, and felt a little bumpy through my shorts.  I must have looked ridiculous up there.

"How's this?" I sat straight up, rigid as a board.  I thought he’d like the ‘at attention’ look, maybe even give me a couple extra bucks as a reward.

"No, no, no! Slump, you slacker!"  He gestured wildly at me as he spoke.

I slumped. He nodded.  His dingy pants had a urine stain right in the middle of the crotch.  Nice.

"Much better. Now, get to work!"

The geezer sat down on his bench, directly in front of my perch. He glowered at all passersby.

This is so stupid.  Who pays a guy to sit on his car?

After four hours, I had had enough.  Fun was fun, but I had places to go.

"Time to pay up, old man," I said as I slid off of the Volvo's hood. "Show's over."

"Hood ornaments don't talk-- they sit on top of hoods! Now sit!"  He grinned maniacally.

"I said I want my money old-timer. Now make with my dough!"  I extended my hand towards him.

"There is no money," he said, laughing and grinning at me. "I just wasted four hours out of your day!"

"Pay up or you'll be sorry."  I moved toward him, threateningly.

"Get lost, you punk!" he replied, still grinning. "You young kids make me sick!"

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My lawyer fiddled with his notepad.  Why are legal pads always yellow?  What’s that about?

"Hmmm... and that's when you struck him?" he asked.

I nodded.  I stared at his cufflinks.  Their jewels transfixed me as they sparkled in the fluorescent lights. 

"That wasn't even his car, did you know that?" 

I shook my head.  I could tell he was busy.  I wondered if those diamonds were real.  Probably not. 

"You should really get negligent homicide, but we may have to plead to manslaughter two, and aggravated assault."  His clothes were crisp and faintly scented.  I wondered if he’d ever needed money like I did, living hand to mouth.

"I barely touched him. It was an accident!"  They were pretty shiny though.  They could be real, I guess…

"Yes, but a trial could put you away for fifteen to life. With man two, I could get you six to twelve with parole after two years. If they allow negligent, you could get maybe a year in jail with a suspended sentence. It doesn't help that the old man was a retired police detective.”

"I told that guy at the placement agency it was stupid! Who pays someone to sit on the hood of a car?"

"Hey- just telling you what we are looking at here. I'll do my best, and I'll keep you in the loop."  Twinkle, twinkle…

I nodded. He was practically an ambulance chaser, just a step above a public defender; all that I could afford, really.

"Hang in there. I'll call you when I hear something."  The sparkle left the room as he walked away.

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The steak was a little overdone.  In addition, it looked as though it had been tenderized by a jockey’s whip.  "That figures," I muttered aloud. Nothing ever seems to work out for me.

"It's time to go," the large guard announced. "You ready?"  As though I could forestall the inevitable.

I rose from my cot and stood by the door. "Let's get it over with," I replied.

"Dead man WALKING!" the lead guard shouted as we marched down the corridor. "Dead man WALKING here!"  Just like in the movies, I smiled ironically.  Except I wouldn’t have a sequel.

The priest asked if I had anything I wanted to confess. Sure padre—there is no god, and if there is one, he must hate me.

I shook my head no.

The needle slipped easily into my vein.  Too bad I never shot heroin.

"Does the Condemned have any last words?" the warden asked me.

"It was an accident."  Can I get do-over? 

The warden signaled to the executioner.

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"What was that? I didn't catch that..." As he had droned on about the job, my mind had wandered on me.

The man from the placement agency sighed. "It's daily work, daily pay. Are you interested?"