Fun Times

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"You can sometimes act like a stuck up prick can't you?"

"Rude..." he groans, then continues to drive.

"Well from what I've seen so far, you insulted your crew until they left, only respected me because I came from the city, and judged some people because they aren't filthy rich."

"Well when you put it like tha-"

"Haha, see you later." I wink and flip him off as I go to grab a to go dinner from Flo's.

"You can grab your own food when you're done."

It's around late afternoon, and the sun begins to set smoothly.

"The road looks like shit. You better repave it later or you're gonna have to stay here longer." I gist him.

"It looks amazing!" He scolds me and sends a somewhat irritated glare, as I wave him off.

"I'm headed to bed, have fun."

"Yeah yeah!" He yells at me as I walk away and collapse into the mattress.

God he annoys me.
He seems familiar.
I hate that familiar.
That familiar person-
He reminds me of my ex.
Like how he was in the beginning.
His arrogance.
How he always took everything for granted.
His playful banter.
Screw this, I'm working on another design.

I'm just thinking about him a lot because it's someone new in time.

It disgusts me I'm thinking of another LA pig.
Maybe if he wasn't so irking to me, we would be friends.

"Goddamnit, I have no ideas."
I just end up sketching ideas, then hating them and trashing them for the rest of the night before passing out.

When I awoke, the alarm on my phone rung loudly.

"Hnghhh..." I groan as I get up groggily, 7:30 AM.

That's mainly when I have to wake up for shifts to help Ramone fix his car detailing.

"He always wants to make me get up so damn early... he doesn't even like getting up early." I talk to myself, changing into this.

Walking out, hair roughed out and tied up, I look at the crappy excuse of a road

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Walking out, hair roughed out and tied up, I look at the crappy excuse of a road.

"What the hell... that bitch. Now I won't be able to go back to LA before the exclusive deal with NASCAR hits me up." I mutter, still somehow pissed off.

I was looking forward to it, a lot actually. I'm a freelancer in most things, but designing is my actual job.
'Of course, they couldn't have asked at a better time.'
I'll just stay up later again.
And again.
And work more.
***************************************
Walking to Ramones, I look in to see him removing the old paint he had on the car.

"Need some help with that?" I lean against the opened doorway of his painting garage.

"Heya! Yeah, grab the usual tools." He points towards the shelf where he usual keeps the tools.

"I'm almost done with the base, I'll start setting up the spray paints."

I continue to scrape and scrub the hood of the car, being wary of causing any damage.

While doing so, I overhear conversation.

"See, I paved the road. Deal done, I'll get going."

"When I said fix the road, I meant fix the road. Not make it worse. Go ahead, scrape it, then repave it."

"Hell no! I fixed the road."

"I'll make a deal outta you. Race me and my granddaughter, and if you win you can leave. Then me or her will pave the road."

"Who's your 'grand daughter'?"

I walk out, dropping the materials used to clean the car, I stuff my hands in my pockets.

"That would be me."

His eyes hold a shocked glance, but soon turns into a competitive glare, as do mine.

"Oh please, I'm Lightning McQueen, I'll easily beat you both. Me, a professional racer against an old man and a random girl from LA that's probably never raced."

"Mhm." I smile at him, then grab my car.

The car:

"Ramone, the paint job will have to wait

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"Ramone, the paint job will have to wait."

"Chris it was your job to watch over his community service!"

Doc scolds me, McQueen chuckling in the background.

"Douche bag here promised me he would do a better job later. Of course a poor excuse for a NASCAR racer would fail at such a simple task."

"HEY-"

"Be more careful, from now on you will supervise him correctly, ergo I will do checks on his progress." Doc substands.

"Don't say that before I've won." Cheekily, McQueen states.

Oh Ho Ho, he doesn't know what he's in for.

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