|Other admirers include neighbours and NAPA personnel.|
At the center of this latest cash crisis sits, (immobile, naturally) not one, not two, but a trio of inert Saab 99s; all in a state that would make any sensible person run away screaming, holding their wallet protectively close to keep it from harm and gibbering long-suppressed scraps of scripture to ward off the evil. Actually exchanging real Authorized Funding for multiple dead examples of 35-year-old cars from an extinct company should trigger a few red indicators. If it does not, as is clearly the case within the Swedish Car Division, you probably have other wiring issues with your risk management circuitry.
|Delicate detailing takes the breath away.|
|Saab #3: That door handle is still good.|
Saab #3 is ostensibly the "parts car" of the group; ready and willing to sacrifice itself for the betterment of the Saab community at large. Or, it would be if there were any good parts on it. The engine, transmission, radiator, and parts of the interior have already been removed, and the body panels are rusted out in the usual, depressing, places.
|Agent 311: Serious allegations in Saab Scaandal.|
"What the hell is going on around here?" said a disbelieving Agent 1080 upon seeing the infestation of short, funny-looking Swedish sedans for the first time, "What the fuck are these things? Jesus, I...I...why? Are you keeping this junk?
Not a fan; these don't resemble 1968 Plymouths at all."
Agent 0318 was similarly unmoved by the appearance of the 99's.
"I try to be your friend, you know? Like, I didn't say anything when you bought that... CX? what the fuck is that thing? Some kind of a chopped Citation? What the hell are you going to do with that? You have two of them? And what's this other thing? Why would you buy any of this shit?"
"Look, I just think it's time you took a minute... I mean, if you think that I'll ride in this thing..." added Agent 1080, recoiling as he looked in on an interior devoid of decadence and die-cast decoration; upright seats, soft surfaces, and hieroglyphic heater controls combined to offend his slouchy, gear-banging, beer-cans-out-the-window style.
The President, his capacity for subtlety severely diminished by a towering pair of able-bodied G&Ts, replied that
"All Agents should be advised that year-end bonuses this term will consist largely of being told to fuck off."