Something didn’t add up.
If it was a Dale Earnhardt tribute, where were the friends to go “Dude …”? If it was a demolition derby legend, why no paparazzi? And if it was just a door salvaged from a junkyard, who decided “The one with the mural of a condor humping a skull—yeah, that’s too tacky”?
I needed to talk to that $2.50 can of Krylon to find out what it knew. A stink was in the air, and it wasn’t from a lack of proper ventilation.
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