Another Typical Sunday (Mylot Exclusive #1871)

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As you know, I had to get rid of my Tesler. It's not that I didn't like being called a NAZI MAGAT everywhere I went. It was just that the novelty wore off rather quickly and then it was just tiresome. My first step was to get a bumper sticker that said, "I Bought It BEFORE Leon went full NAZI!" When that stopped working, after the first five seconds, I implemented Plan B---Sell the darn thing! I called Sam Drucker at the Hooterville World Guardian and placed a classified ad. Sam was skeptical. "Sure, I'll run the ad, Greg, but I don't see much hope for it. You're asking for $12 at a time when you can't give away Teslers. President Musk messed up the whole used Tesler market. The new Tesler market, too. And don't ask me about my Tesler stock because I'd start saying words that'd get us canceled and demonitized." To no one's surprise, Sam was wrong. In only three weeks, A very young 114-year-old lady named Hazel Howard answered the ad and offered me $10 cash for the car. For some reason, she promised she would only drive it once a week, to church and back, every Sunday. So I took it out and showed it to her in person. I told her everything she needed to know and when she got in the driver's seat, she said, "Everything's computer!" She gave me a check for $10 and everyone was happy. Except for Accrual Assets, my Head Accountant & Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Financial Affairs. She was, to put it politely, red hot livid. Not in a good way. She kept saying, "That car was worth $15! I generously approved $12 because of the current undesirability of the brand. Then you gave it away for $10. Talk about waste, fraud, and corruption! Sometimes, I don't know why I even bother!" It took her until this morning to calm down. Shortly after that, the whole deal really collapsed. At 8:47 AM, Hazel called me and said, "Hey! This car you sold me just burst into flames. It was the funniest thing. Everything was fine until I got to church. I just pulled into the parking lot, and the strangest thing happened. I started to hear trumpets playing really low in the distance, in depressing minor keys---I thought it was that Seraphina Chord, the Choir Director, playing a joke on me but no, it wasn't her. She was in the vestuble, filming a disturbing YouTube short called "How To Shock Your Minister." Did you have anything to do with it? It looks like something you'd write and word on the street is you've been through Seraphina's hymnal more than a few times so it would be natural if you worked together, too---Then the car burst into flames!" I calmed her down by explaining that those rumors about me and Serahina are mostly untrue and Sister Gidget Bertrille ((She hasn't been a Sister since I rescued her from her Nun job in that Convent in Puerto Rico but she kept the title. And on Tuesday nights, she wears her old Habit at my request)), my favorite Upstairs Spiritual Advisor and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Religious Affairs, had predicted how and why the flames might happen. "Do you know who the Anti-Christ is?" I asked. "I sure do," She said. "I bought a Bible from him! It smells like dirty diapers, sulfur, and old tennis shoes." "Well, he's the reason your car burst into flames the second you got to church. The guy he hired to destroy America owns Tesler. He also owns Twitter, so you shouldn't Tweet for a while." "Oh, don't worry. I only Tweet when the Diner puts baked beans on the Blue Plate Special, and that's only once a week. No Tweeting for me until Thursday. But what am I going to do about a car? I'm going to need one next Sunday. And I gave you my last $10! That was the end of my life savings." I thought for a moment and suddenly remembered that I had a car in my barn that would fit her perfectly. I didn't say, "If you used your last $10 at 114, I'd say you timed your life savings perfectly down to the last minute." Instead, I said, "Hazel, what would you say if I told you I can replace the burned up Tesler with a like new 1934 Hoyt Clagwell, Model R and it won't cost you an extra cent?" A lot of people think Hoyt Clagwell only made tractors, but no, they also made cars from 1922 to 1940. Hazel started breathing so fast, I thought she was having a stroke. "Did you say a 1934 Hoyt Clagwell Model R?" She asked. After I told her that's exactly what I said, she said, "I don't believe it! My beloved dearly departed husband, Henry, gave me a brand new one for our tenth wedding anniversary. I loved that car and I never thought I'd see another one." If you're doing the math at home, you know she got married when she was 12. It was a different era---Geologists call it The Jeffrey Epstein Epoch. Republicans call it, "When America Was Great." I told her that I'd get the car all spruced up and bring it out to her this afternoon. Then I told Mercedes Conveyance, my favorite Upstairs Driver, Mechanic and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Backseat Automotive Affairs, that I sold the Hoyt Clagwell and she had to get it ready for delivery. "OK," She said. "I'm going to have to flush the fuel line, replace the plugs and points, change the oil and all the filters and a few other things. Give me two hours." She worked her mechanical magic, we delivered the car and everyone is happy again. And that's how I got rid of my Tesler in an impossible market.