[jonathan180iq]

The salesman, a slightly overweight fellow who is trying to relive the days of his youth by selling motorcycles to the undereducated, saw the short statuered Canadian woman as she casually strolled through the doorway. He lept from his reclined office chair and muted the television, which was playing reurns on moto-cross races from 1988.

"Can I help you?" He asked.
"No thanks." Said the woman, "I'm just looking."
Again the salesman pressed, "what kind of bike are you looking for?"
"Just something that gets good gas mileage and is easy to maintain", she replied.
Instantly gripped by the thought of his high comission and trying to boost slowing sales in the area, the sales begins to spew...

"Well, if you're going to be on the inerstate at all, I would suggest at least a 4 cylinder, 1000cc bike. Anything smaller and you'll get run over by big trucks, smashed into little bits by SUVs, turned into a sad motorcycle statistic and you'll overall just look like a retard. Not to mention, rainbow stickers will flock to your helmet like the salmon of stopuano, and the space time continum will split and bring an end to life as we know it."

Taken aback, the woman paused for a moment and returned, with a perplexed look on her face, "I was thinking of the GZ250."

"No way, Jose! You don't want that bike. What are you, some kind of mental whack job? The GZ250 was designed for 12 year old little girls. I suprised they didn't offer it in only pink. The top speed is like 8mph."

Starting to feel uncomfortable at the salesman's lack of grip with reality, the woman began slowly backing away from the man, towards the door.

The man continued, "If you buy this nice Hayabusa we have here, you'll instantly gain 4 inches on your woo-woo and hair will spontaneously grow out of your chest and women will call you by name."

FA-BIO! FA-BIO! FA-BIO!


The woman finally reached the door.
It took everything she had to avoid jingling the bell on her way out.
As she quietly sat down in the car beside her husband, who had spent the whole time playing Dungeons 'N Dragons on his PSP while drinking a glass of water, she saw the salesman, in a fit of luncay, dancing around the showroom floor in a Harley Davidson orange colored skullcap and half finger leather gloves. When he began dancing like a fairy and moonwalking, sweat glistening from his brow, she watched him inadvertantly knock over an entire row of shiny, $10,000 bikes like a haphazard game of dominoes. It was then that the man awoke from his testosterone-filled dream sequence. As he looked around, through the front glass he saw the woman and her husband pulling out of the parking lot. The only bike left standing on the showroom floor was a Gun-Metal gray, 2008, Suzuki GZ-250.

The man sat down in the floor and began suckin his thumb; his entire universe was collapsing.