Sam and Colby: The Penitentiary

24

"Nessa, what's your dream car?" asked Sam, walking back over from the car rental window.

"Probably a Jeep Wrangler. Or a Ford F150," I said.

"Fucking redneck," Corey said.

"Shut up. Why?" I asked Sam.

"Let me guess. White? For the Jeep, I mean," said Sam,

"No, yellow," I said.

"Wait, really?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"My dream car is one of those little clown ones," said Jake.

"Oh my god, yes. I would let you take me to the drive in movies with that car," Corey said.

"Sam, we need to get a clown car right the fuck now," said Jake.

"Please, Sammy boy," said Corey.

"Fucking weirdos," I said.

"No, no. They've got a point," Sam said.

"Can I take the trunk?" asked Colby.

"Why do we care about a yellow Jeep?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Hold on, hold on. Corey, what was your dream car in like the fifth grade?" Sam asked.

"A red Ford Mustang GT," Corey replied.

"Is it my turn to share now, or...?" Colby trailed off.

"Nope. Plus you drive a Corolla. On purpose. Still," said Sam.

"So why did you ask?" asked Corey.

"Because," Sam said, holding up the envelope he'd gotten from the guy at the window. "That's what we got."

"What?" asked Corey.

"I didn't choose them, like I said, but I had a feeling that they were going to suit you guys," said Sam. "I just assumed Nessa would want a white one, but we got a yellow."

"No fucking way," I said.

"Way," Sam replied. He dug a pair of keys out of the envelope and tossed them over to me. I looked down at them. I'd been stuck between wanting a Jeep and a pickup truck for my entire life, but had never gotten either. I still drove my Nissan.

"Welp, I'm driving," I said.

"And I'm driving the other one," said Corey, taking the envelope from Sam to snatch the keys.

"Hey, before we go to wherever we're going, can I get a hint? I don't want to know, but I want the vibe," said Corey.

"Okay, uh... a mansion, a US president, and a witch," I said.

"It's that president they made that musical about, isn't it?" asked Jake.

"Hamilton? No. It's not him. Plus he was a good guy. This president was pretty much a complete asshole, but no one really talks about that," I said.

"Well shit, this actually sounds pretty cool," confessed Sam.

"Yup. Texted you the address, the place is called The Hermitage," I said.

"The hermit crab," said Jake.

"I had a hermit crab when I was like 6. I named it after myself," said Corey. "Then it died. I forgot to feed it."