Blanch's Car-Rental Rejection

Fuckin' A, Felix! Will you please get me a CREDIT CARD so I can RENT A FUCKING CAR like today?? [pleasant smile on Blanch's face] Apparently this card has a little different spelling, meaning, opportunity and capability than a debit card. I need a credit card. If I had a car that says BLANCH on it, I'd be on the road right fucking now but no! But nooo! It's all your fault.

Blanch now finds much humor in these questions:

1."May I help you?"

And 2. If so, "How may I help you?"

Well! Here's why:

(BLANCH trudges up to counter in an argyle sweater she knitted last Saturday night with walker. She reaches the counter and put the walker in park. She looks up. "Oh shit," she thinks to self. She know's this lady is going to ignite Blanch's inner bitch. Fuck.)

Avis, Enterprise and the rest of the agent who've turn me down: [cheerfully] Welcome to Marathon, may I help you?

Blanch: Yes. 

Avis, Enterprise and the rest of the agent who've turn me down: How may I help you? 

BLANCH: You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosey, fucking, cheeks! And you can give me a fucking automobile: a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat! 

Avis, Enterprise and the rest of the agent who've turn me down: I really don't care for the way you're speaking to me. 

BLANCH: And I really don't care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there. And I really didn't care to fucking walk, down a fucking highway, and across a fucking runway to get back here to have you smile in my fucking face. I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW

Needless to say Blanch travels by walker today. Not a fucking, Datsun, fucking, Toyota, fucking Mustang, or even a fucking Buick. Happy fucking Tuesday, Blanch. She's probably pushing her walker to the closest bar. Please be aware of try to stay clear of a hunched over angry woman today. This bitch is loose pushing a walker with new tennis balls, wearing that argyle sweater she knitted last Saturday night. Please, stay clear of her wrath and path today.