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[aboyandhiscar]

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[kolus]

A heavy foot pushes the stolen automobile across town, the owner dancing with danger as they weave between traffic, speed up at yellow lights and run completely over stop signs. The car had begun its journey mint, nothing more than a scuff on the bumper. But with Stan behind the wheel, it's taken on a transformation nearly as frightening as his own. Littered with dents, scrapes, and tree branches caught in the grille, the vehicle looks like it's been to Hell and back, a thick trail of oil in its wake to prove it.

Spotting the familiar scrap yard, Stan spins the wheel and guides the car through a sharp turn. If there's an open gate, Stan crashes the car through the fence next to it making his own entrance. He slams on the breaks but the timing is far delayed. Smashing into a stack of unused cars, his own vehicle comes to a violent halt. As if in pain, it shutters and moans before the key is pulled from the ignition and its suffering ends.

The door swings open and from the car emerges a corpse. Having retired his old suit and fez, Stan resembles more of a hobo than a salesman in his long open coat and beanie. He still wears his eye patch, more a necessity than a novelty now. Judging by his skeleton frame and the foul smell he emits he's been dead for awhile. If not too overwhelmed, a keen nose may recognize the smell of the sea water and cigars in his clothes.

Despite his deathly state, Stan is all smiles. A wide grin plastered across his face, he glances around the lot for signs of Mike and waves a bony hand when finally he spots him.

"Ha-hey, Wolfman!" He cheerfully calls with a laugh. "There's my favorite mechanic. Brought you another car to use for rides. Get a load of this beauty. She's perfect."

Banging his hand on the trunk proves a mistake; the bumper, passenger door and back headlight fall completely off at Stan's touch. It's perfect, alright. Perfect to crush. Yikes.

[aboyandhiscar]

If the squealing wheels and dying engine didn't clue Mike in on Stan's arrival, the scattering, bleating sheep get his attention as the lich's ride crashes through the fence. Huh. Well, that one lasted a good six months at least, that's a new record. Some of the sheep make a break for it, but Mike doesn't make any move to stop them. They'll find their way back!

When Stan skids to an exceptionally safe stop against the pile of wrecked automobiles, it sends off a small clattering, rippling effect to the surrounding area. Mike catches a bucket of paint before it can spill with a splatter over the work-in-progress bumpers, and the headboard of another ride topples over. It's fine though, a passing sheep's thick fur cushions its fall!

Any other person would likely be annoyed to high hell by now, but Mike just grins, more than happy to have Stan's familiar, chaotic energy running amock in his life again. But--it's a familiar smell, sure, but something smells somewhat off, and the reasons why are soon made clear. Mike's eyes widen slightly at Stan's new look. Gone is the gruff goblin, and standing there now is something like a seedy zombie. Somehow, he still looks like he could throw down with the best of them, though.

The surprise is somewhat muted as Stan calls attention to the car though. Through monsters and mayhem, nothing can distract Mike enough that he can't appreciate a fine specimen of a car! He lets out a little laugh, then whistles at the broken down frame.

"Nice. And aww, you've already started hollowing her out for me, that's sweet. Looks like I've got the perfect thing for the coaster right there."

Waste not want not, after all! He tilts his head, expression cheeky as ever.

"Looking good Pops. Don't tell me--did you lose weight?"