Sam looks concerned, "Yeah, we’d better find somehows to fix Rodney, cause if the
Weener-Man doesn’t have Rodney going, the rest of us will have to give him rides all over the Township."
The crowd quiets at the prospect.
Finally Gus shakes his head, "You’re right you know, I mean the Weener is a good guy and all, but the last time I gave him a ride, he left a banana peel right there in the ash tray, it was over-ripe too."
Sam agrees, "Yep, and the Weener-man has to stop at every jumk-shop and yard sales we go by," Sam shrugs, "And he buys, Junk, usually he get the junk, and you end up paying for it."
Several people in the crowd shift their footing and nod from experience.
So Gus implores, "Does anybody here know how to fix Weeners-Car??"
There is a murmuring, one fellow calls, "In them foreigny cars like that, they got that funny racing injection."
"Or maybe that exotic racing transmission system," an guy in cover-alls suggests, "You know the one where they put it in R, and drag race backwardies."
And then there is a sharp whistle. The crowd parts. Twistie steps through and walks up to where I stand in front of the Rodney-Mobile.
"Can’t I leave you by yourself for a moment without you sticking your foot in it; clear up over your tennis shoes??" she asks.
"I was just about to get started on the Weener-Cart," I start, "And I was getting some help here,"
"I shoulda known," Twisty gets a funny grin, then she sticks two fingers to her mouth, whistles again, and calls up to the Big House, "Hey Gerbil, go to the cooler and bring down a couple packs of that green pop," she hesitates to listen, "Not the good-tasting kind," she replies, "The stuff that is colored funny," she listens again, "no the Barney Bums aren’t thirsty, we want to it for something useful."