Team Fortress 2 - The Mercs Get REAL Jobs

Scout - Used Car Salesman

“See, I’m telling you, bud, this car is totally you!”

Scout leaned against a battered-looking car, smiling energetically at the older man eyeing it. “No, seriously. This car? This one right here?” He patted the beat-up door. “I would sell this car to my own mother. That, my fine friend, is how safe and reliable it is.”

He gave it an extra hard pat and the door came off.

“Uh…” Scout said, glancing rapidly from the broken door to the startled man. “I, uh…never liked my mother much anyways! Now over here, sir, is the car for you.” He was quick to direct the buyer’s eye to a different car. “Now this car is a good one,” Scout said. “See these seats? Genuine pleather. Much, much better than that cheap old leather crap they use. It’s super sturdy!”

“Um, thank you, but I don’t think I’m interested anymore…” the man said, trying to back away, but Scout threw an arm around his shoulders and laughed, saying “C’mon man! I ain’t gonna take no for an answer! I mean it! HA!”

Working as a Used Car Salesman wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but with his (in his mind) natural charm and dashing, rugged good-looks, it would be as easy as hitting a homerun in one try with his good hand tied behind his back.

Very easy, indeed.

When the potential buyer finally ran screaming from the car-lot, Scout turned away, blowing a small bubble with his gum. “Another wonderful day’s work, by yours truly, Mister Handsome,” he said with a grin, grabbing a soda can labeled ‘Bonk’ and taking a big swig.

“Scout!” called an angry voice, and he looked up just in time to see the manager striding towards him. “I just received another complaint, young man, this time from Mr. Krak,” he fumed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Hey, Mr. Krak can stuff it! He was downright rude to me!” Scout exclaimed.

“It says here that you called him an offensive name. What did you say to him?”

“Nothin’.”

“Mr. Scout!”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault! When he got named, his parents musta known it was coming to him!”

“The name, Mr. Scout. What did you call Mr. Krak?”

“I just…made a comment. Ya know, how his name sorta sounded like…ya know…how it sounded like butt-”

“I get the picture. You are not to insult the name of any of our customers ever again, do you understand me?”

The manager started to go off into a rant about respect and dealing nicely with people, but Scout’s eyes had gone elsewhere.

Namely, to a trio of cute girls that had just walked into the lot.

“Yeah, I get it, Boss. Like crystal,” he said, already backing away. “Hear me? Crystal!” He turned and trotted off towards the girls, leaving the manager to sigh and walk back to his office.

“Ladies, ladies,” Scout said, smiling at them as he approached with a swagger in his step. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why is this handsome, hot, strong, good-looking, handsome, beautiful young man talking to us? Well the answer is quite simple, my divine goddesses. This is your lucky day, ladies, for one of you gets to go out on a date…” He jerked his thumbs at himself. “…with me. You can fight amongst yourselves over who gets to go-…hey!”

They had walked off shortly after he started talking to them.

“Woah woah woah!” he called, running around to face them again. “Ladies, you walked out on the best part!”

“Who are you, again?” one of them said quizzically.

He rolled his eyes, then said “I, beautiful, am your Tour God.”

“Tour God?” another said. “Don’t you mean Tour Guide?”

“I mean what I said, babe. I’m a Tour God,” he said with a wink. “Now if you’ll step this way, I’ll introduce you to my friend, Mr. Truck.”

He patted the hub of a brown pickup, grinning.

“What kind of truck is it?” the brunette asked.

“Er…it’s a…well…let’s go with luxury sports cab.”

“You don’t even know what kind of car it is?” the last girl said, sounding a bit stunned.

“Hey, who’s the one selling cars here?” he shouted.

At their disapproving stares, he sighed loudly and said “Fine, I guess I gotta show you girls I mean business. You see that bird sittin’ on the roof of that car? I’ll hit it with…” From a strap on his back, he pulled out his trusty baseball bat and a baseball. “…these,” he finished, blowing a quick bubble with his gum.

“Um, what does that have to do with selling cars?” the blonde said fearfully, all three girls backing up.

“Nothing!” Scout said happily. “It’s just to show you ladies I’m the ace of the block! Now watch this.”

He threw the baseball high, struck a stance, and swung.

The ball went flying, as did the bat, accidentally.

The ball ricocheted around the car lot, crashing into windows and breaking them, denting cars and making other potential buyers duck and scream.

The girls wailed and raced out, leaving Scout alone, looking dumbstruck as the ball hit yet another car window, making a total of…all of them.

A heavy hand on his shoulder made him cringe, and he didn’t have to look to see the manager, fuming, behind him.

“Heh heh…does this mean I’m not getting that promotion, bud?” Scout murmured nervously, and from the way the manager glared, he knew it wasn’t so.

When he walked out later, he had been fired, needless to say. He decided to go back to Mann Co and see how well the others had done. Gathering his baseball bat and ball close, he strutted off, looking no worse for the wear.