Mr. Suave Goes for a Ride
Having just repaired the glasses his grandpa had tried to suck up the vacuum the previous night, Mr. Suave has to return 'House of 1000 Corpses' and 'Out of Time' to Video's Unlimited. He did not like the Rob Zombie film, except for its mostly stellar casting. Mr. Suave likes a good cast. He did like 'Out of Time', but the loopholes and too-happy ending were not to his taste. Denzel was groovy. Mr. Suave liked Denzel, but he likes Denzel in everything, because Mr. Suave and Denzel are on the same wavelength. They are both supercool and sophisticated, and they both have a certain way with the ladies.
He leaves the house in a strut, because Mr. Suave does not ever walk. There is only strutting. Imagine a man in motion to the beat of the Don Henley classic, 'Dirty Laundry', and you will come close to understanding, but not capturing, the essence of Mr. Suave. He struts to his '95 Buick Century and before he even gets all the way there, he tosses the videos through the open driver's side window. They land perfectly in the passenger seat, because Mr. Suave always has perfect aim.
He opens the driver's door and slips inside, pulling the door closed after him all in one smooth, fluid move, as Mr. Suave is nothing if not smooth. He starts up the car and reverses out of the carport. His wheels do not touch the grass as he arcs around the circular driveway. He puts the car into drive and calmly speeds out, turning the wheel with one hand.
Always with one hand.
On the way out of the neighborhood, Mr. Suave spots an old man out for a walk. He slows, because 'Mr. Suave Breaks For The Elderly', and he nods to the Mr. Old Man. Mr. Old Man does not nod back, and shakes his head. Mr. Suave drives on, unaffected by the faggoty old cockfuck. He asks himself what kind of s.o.b. over sixty goes for a walk at 8:48 in the evening. They should all be in bed. But he does not stress the thought, as Mr. Suave does not stress anything. He is cool, and lets the aggravation roll off of him like oil over water. He is the shit, and he knows it.
He turns on the radio, and skips through the stations playing country. Mr. Suave does not listen to country. He does listen to Enrique Iglesias though, and that's who he stops on.
Once on highway 401, Mr. Suave goes 70 on what is normally 55. He does this because he is badass, and he is too good for the speed limit. He knows this, as do all of the other drivers on the road. One in particular, a forty-something bald guy in a red truck, is in front of Mr. Suave. But not for long. Mr. Suave changes lanes and passes Mr. Bald Guy, easily. But the light is red, and Mr. Sauve must stop. He is first in line, as always.
A few seconds later a long line of people come up to the lane next to him, all of them getting ready to turn right and head to Wal-Mart. At the head of the line is Mr. Bald Guy. Mr. Suave smiles and nods at Mr. Bald Guy. He turns to watch the stop light.
He hears a car horn blare for a second. It's Mr. Bald Guy. Maybe Mr. Suave knows Mr. Bald Guy. Mr. Suave looks at the man again, and Mr. Bald Guy is shouting something at him, but Mr. Iglesias is singing to loudly. Mr. Suave turns the radio down, knowing that Mr. Bald Guy will be pleased that Mr. Suave has given him the gift of his full attention.
"What?"
"Your lights are off, moron!"
Mr. Suave is out at 8:50 in the evening with his lights off.
Mr. Bald Guy shakes his head and turns right. Every single person in the right lane stare at Mr. Suave before they turn.
Mr. Suave turns his lights on.
He has been wounded, but not broken. Never broken.
He will rise again.