"What? You’re kidding me," I tell Ernie, "There’s only two or three sidewalks in this town, not to mention curbs. The rest is in berms!"
"Well Greg told me to stand here and hold onto this stick," Ernie starts.
I hear a boot scrape behind me. I turn to find Greg McIntyre standing behind me, hat pulled down, behind dark sunglasses, "Does there to be an account of commotion here while the Business of the WeenerMan Township is being conducted?"
"Listen up," I say to Greg, "I come out of the Haulers, Peddlars, and Cobblers Bank there and I find Ernie here trying to set me up for another traffick ticket, what do you have to say to that?!"
Greg McIntyre bows his head down and coughs, "Wouldya play along?" he rasps.
"Hunhh?" I respond.
McIntyre doesn’t look directly at me but says in a low, knowing voice, "Look here, the Judge got theTownship has a chance to try out this new laser range-survey equipment here, and if we can put in a good report, we get to keep it."
"The Township really needs some new equipment too," Ernie speaks up.
"So you see, it’s really help us all out if there is a curb here, and your truck is present as an object to measure accuracey from the curb," Greg McIntyre explains with a drawl.
"So how much is this accurate curb adjustment going to cost me?" I ask.
"Well, that’s not the point of it, but," Greg starts, then looks past me and catches himself.
I look to where Greg was looking then look back and both Greg McIntyre and Ernie Stubbs are long gone. The dust from the departed ’74 El Camino recedeing into the distance.
And then from behind me, I hear a very gruff, "Ahmmmm."