December 30 - How A Tire Store Works

I took the van in to Tire Party again.
They had patched my flat a couple of days ago, but there was still a leak.
I looked at the work order.
They had tried fixing it with armpit farts.
But they didn't take.

I looked through the glass at the tire mechanics yelling and dropping metal objects and masturbating at calendars.
They saw that my tire was still flat.
They told a bunch of fag jokes to it.
But it was still flat.
A tire scientist was dispatched to see what the problem could be.
He looked like a nerd.
And a fag.
While he found the source of the leak, the mechanics depantsed him and snapped oily rags at his exposed buttocks.
This caused a lot more yelling and clanging of fallen metal.
Then they gagged the scientist and forced him to bend over a Mazda.
A circle formed.
The mechanic with the largest penis inserted it into the scientist's butt.
Some mechanics took disposable pictures of the event.
Over his shoulder, one of the mechanics masturbating to a calendar noticed the scientist being humiliated.
He edged his way into the circle and continued masturbating.
The scientist handed his analysis to the new guy, and began screaming in terror.
To drown out his cries for help, the mechanics who had prematurely ejaculated squealed their air guns.
Everyone else reached their climax to a general Guns 'n' Roses song.
When it was over many of the mechanics used the scientist's body as a facility.

So that's how a tire store works.
Hey, man.
I don't care what they do, as long as they find the leak.

The cashier showed me the tire.
He pointed to the patch on the tread.
"This is the leak we fixed."
He pointed to another hole near the sidewall.
"This is the other leak."
He asked me if I wanted to continue.
I said yes.
I didn't want to know how they fixed a flat, so I sat in the waiting room.
The cashier came in with some paperwork.
"Tony, I just need you to sign off on the new tire.  With labor it will be $285."
"Oh.  I just need you to patch that other hole."
He told that since it was on the sidewall, they couldn't do that.
I told him that I couldn't afford a new tire.
So he raced back into the mechanics dungeon.
They wiped all the fresh blood, excrement and semen from my old tire and begrudgingly put it back on the van.
Wait til next year.

Verdict: Loss